


Little Firestarter

by musiclily88, sweet_disposition



Series: Firestarter [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Compulsions, Depression, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hospitals, I swear we know what we are doing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mania, OCD, Obsessive Behavior, Past Drug Use, Psychoanalysis, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Psychology, Pyromania, Sex Addiction, We have both worked in residential psychiatric facilities, residential treatment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_disposition/pseuds/sweet_disposition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five of the UK‘s most damaged individuals come together in a charming locked-ward psychiatric facility. Insanity continues to ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is That All You've Got?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So this got glitch-deleted when we tried to add a new chapter, so we're re-uploading it. However the formatting of every other chapter is wonky as fuck (no line breaks! lots of weird symbols! I need an old priest and a young priest just to decipher what the hell is happening! I am in figurative tears!) so editing it has been a labor of love.
> 
> Please be patient as I re-upload this, maybe give it a re-read and share? All the kudos and comments got deleted as well, sadly. TAKE PITY ON US!
> 
> However at the end of this ridiculous ordeal we will have a new chapter as well.  
> xx  
> -musiclily88

Leave it to Louis to fall in love with someone while locked in psychiatric hospital. Harry was literally a mental patient --but then, Louis supposed, so was he.

“Is he running through the unit again?”

Louis stuck his head out the open doorway just in time to see a naked Harry streak past him. “When is he not?” he drawled, feigning relaxation.

“Why is he always naked?” Zayn yelled from down the hall.

“If I looked like him, I probably would be too,” Louis pointed out. Harry was hot. Fit, even, in a slender, weirdly tall, mop-headed way. There was no use denying it.

“More like if you were always manic the way he is,” Zayn replied.

“Manic and sex-crazed.” Louis shrugged and cast another look Harry’s direction. He had run to the end of the unit and was circling back towards them. Mustn’t stare. Not polite.

“Oh god.” Zayn sighed. “Get back inside before he tries to hump you.”

“Good point.” Not that Louis didn’t want that--he very badly did--but he did not want to be used as a fucktoy by a mentally deranged twink. If they were going to fuck, he would have to be lucid. Which, of course, he almost never was. Not in Harry’s long stint in Shady Pines Residential Psychiatric Facility.

Harry’s stint was rivaling Louis’ own in terms of length. But then if there was something Louis was good at, it was morbid depression. What he was bad at was actually managing to off himself every time he tried, and he had tried a lot.

So maybe there were other reasons he refused to fuck Harry. Maybe there were a lot of them.

“I am the fastest sprinter in the world!” Harry called as he zipped past Louis’ open door.

“You do talk some shit, don’t you?” Louis couldn’t stop himself from responding.

“I’ll fight you, Lou, don’t think I won’t,” Harry yelled ecstatically, turning around. He breathed heavily as he lurched his way into Louis’ room.

“You’d lose. You probably fight like a drunk monkey or a gangly giraffe.” Louis was decidedly not staring at Harry’s dangling cock. Nope, not at all.

“I fight like Napoleon himself.” Harry wriggled in an awkward little dance.

“Put on some trousers, dude.” Louis backed further into his room, not trusting himself around Harry’s fizzing happiness and grabby hands.

“Shan’t.”

“You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the point, pal.” Harry grinned at him, arching one eyebrow.

“Harry, we have rules about nudity and running in the unit. These rules exist for your safety!” a BHA called from one end of the unit. “Harry, listen to me please.”

“Gotta go.” Harry turned and darted away from the loud voice.

“Code yellow, adult unit. Code yellow, adult unit,” a tinny voice said over the loudspeaker. Louis breathed easier when the object of his ridiculous affection was out of his room and being gently manhandled by staff.

The adult unit was a fucking circus with Harry in it. The guy could barely be called an adult anyway, he was a shaggy-haired nineteen-year-old who giggled like a little girl and was all long legs and pointy elbows. He was a fool. A beautiful one, but still--a fool.

“Aren’t we just the prettiest girl in school,” Louis drawled as Harry was escorted back to his room by two large BHAs.

Harry cracked a grin. “Love you too, sweetcheeks.” He blew a kiss in Louis’ direction.

“Tosser,” Louis grunted.

“Shut up and go back to staring at my bare ass, Lou.”

“Wasn’t ever.”

“Gagging for it!” Harry shoots him a grin as the BHAs effectively toss him into his room.

***

“Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys,” Louis said to the newcomer at group later that afternoon.

“Thanks I guess,” replied the blond guy who sat down next to him. “I’m Niall,” he added, leaning his head back against the wall behind his plastic chair.

“What’s with you?” Zayn leaned across Louis to ask this question to Niall, genuine concern in his voice.

“Stuck in a psych ward, aren’t I? And hungover to boot.” Niall sighed. “Detox blows.”

“I’m Louis. This is Zayn. What’s your damage, Heather?”

“Raging alcoholism, mostly. You know how it is.”

Zayn barked a laugh. “Just like the Irish.”

“Why? What’s wrong with you, British bad boy?” Niall asked defensively. Louis rolled his eyes. The defensiveness would go away with time. Judging others was kind of pointless when you were all in lockdown.

“MDD and cocaine addiction, obviously. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo.”

Harry breezed into the room and twirled like a ballerina before moving to sit next to Louis.

“Calmed down, have we?” Louis asked, ducking close to Harry’s ear.

“For now. Wait til you see the new guy.” Harry laughed.

“I have. He’s sitting right next to me.” Louis pointed his thumb Niall’s direction.

“Not him.” Harry waved at Niall. “Another new recruit. Just your type,” he added, waggling a finger at Zayn.

“What the fuck does that mean, mate?” Zayn asked angrily.

“I am a love detective, my friend.” Harry crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.

“You’re a twat is what you are,” Zayn replied.

“Synonyms.” Harry shrugged. He closed his eyes.

“You are kind of a twat though,” Louis murmured as their clinical therapist walked into the room.

“As if I didn’t know that,” Harry said.

***

“Okay. Maybe Harry was right,” Zayn noted to Louis as the latter dragged a clean shirt over his head before dinnertime.

“About what? He’s kind of hard to follow,” Louis pointed out.

“About the new recruit being fit.”

“Which new misfit toy?”

“Liam.”

“Ah.” Louis grinned. “Getting bent, I see.”

“My predilections are fluid, as I am sure you are aware.” Zayn huffed and crossed his arms over his slender chest.

“You’re talking to the most flaming gay in the parade, kid. I’m not here to judge.”

“And yet that’s all you do,” Zayn pointed out, fairly.

“Mental patients are as mental patients do.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“Depression will do that to a fella.”

They headed into the corridor to meet up with the rest of the unit for dinnertime. Louis nudged Zayn in the side gently. “You should go for it.”

“What? Why?”

“Poetic good looks and eyelashes for days, mostly. On you, that is. Plus he’s looking at you like he wants to eat your soul.” Louis raised his chin in Liam’s direction. It was true. Liam was staring at them confusedly.

“Oh god.” Zayn rubbed his jaw with one hand.

“The manic angel is right for once,” Harry said, catching up to Louis and Zayn. He slipped one arm through Louis’ own, while Louis tried not to wince or pant. “You know I’m right,” Harry added, ducking around Louis’ chest to look at Zayn. “Totally your type.”

“You don’t know my type, Curly,” Zayn muttered angrily.

“Think I do though, mate.”

“Fuck off.”

Louis laughed again. Leave it to him to love a mental patient. Harry squeezed Louis’ arm tighter in his own. “Shan’t,” he said easily.

“What’s your type then?” Zayn murmured. “Whatever you can pin down for more than five seconds?”

“Not quite.” Harry poked a free finger into Louis’ side and made kissing noises. “But this fella doesn’t have eyes for me.”

“Oh god, Harry, stop it already,” Louis groaned. If only he’d had a gun. If he’d had a gun, he wouldn’t be here right now.

“Give it time.”

***

That was part of Louis’s problem, though. He was horrible at patience, at enduring anything uncomfortable. He was impulsive. He was impulsive and he hated himself, and that combination had resulted in a lot of self-directed violence. A lot of it.

And that had resulted in a lot of hospitalizations, stomach-pumps, stitches, and wound-licking. Not literal wound-licking, of course, just tearful visits with his mother and sisters that he could tell were becoming too much. Leave it to him to hurt the only good people in his life just by hurting himself.

If it were possible to envy someone in a psych ward--and it was, Louis could attest to that--he was jealous of Harry. Sure, Harry’s mania verged on psychosis half the time, but he seemed to be in a better place than the rest of them. At least Harry’d never shut himself in the garage with the engine on. At least his days fizzed with color and delight, unlike Louis’s days, unlike his long interminable weeks where everything was exhausting, grey, and pathetic. He had no idea where the colors had gone.

All he knew was that he couldn’t stand seeing his mother’s scared face when she woke him up in the morning, not sure if he would be able to get out of bed that day. So here he was. Again.

***

“I’m the king of the ward!” Harry called bright and early the next morning. Too early, as far as Louis was concerned. Mornings, what a bunch of bullshit.

“How many times have you seen that movie?” Louis asked as he slipped a jumper over his head. He wondered when he had gotten used to not wearing shoes. His second visit to hospital? His third? Instead he toddled around in slipper socks and pretended he knew how to be a functioning adult.

“Like seventeen. Or a thousand.” Harry plopped down onto Louis’ bed and grinned up at him. “I cry every time.”

“That’s not surprising.” Louis leaned against the wall, careful about proximity and his desire to bite Harry’s jawbone.

“It isn’t?”

“You’re the innocent virginal princess who actually believes the world is made up of good things, rather than it being a shithole. Of course you cry when Jack dies.”

Harry snorted. “Virgin, right.”

“You know what I mean.” Louis shrugged.

His shrug was followed by a tense silence that went on many moments too long.

“What has the world done to you?” Harry asked so earnestly Louis actually wanted to cry. Louis often wanted to cry, of course, given the severe emotional instability toiling around in his head. But this damn child brought it out in him more often than not.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do.”

“No, you don’t.” Louis shook his head.

“Yes I do,” Harry yelled, launching himself up off of the bed and straight into Louis’ chest. They locked eyes. “And I usually get what I want.”

Louis’s breath was stuck somewhere in the middle of his chest and it wouldn’t dislodge. He tried to suck in air and gaped at Harry noiselessly, trying to back further into the wall.

“What are you talking about?” Louis whispered.

Harry grabbed Louis’ biceps and squeezed, hard.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t.” Louis blinked back embarrassing tears.

“Please.” Harry moved one hand to Louis’ jumper collar and tugged hard. This brought Louis’ face closer to his own.

“You really don’t know how to be gentle, do you?” Louis muttered, no longer trying to yank himself away.

“I love you too.” Harry stared straight into his eyes when he said this and Louis felt more tears well up.

“Don’t. Don’t say that.” He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

Harry was still clinging to his arm and collar. Louis felt like he would never get away. “Why?” Harry whispered, his breath warm on Louis’ cheek.

“Don’t lie to me.”

***

Harry’s world was chaotic and so, so bright. He felt like he was constantly careening into walls and smashing his face against doorframes. Everything was loud and amazing and frustrating. Everything was scary. Nothing ever stood still long enough for him to caress it. Instead he crushed everything he touched.

Weird that he could feel anchored down by Louis at times, that his eyes were able to focus on that stupidly beautiful boy’s eyes and feel calm for a second. One second of calm was what he needed to keep from imploding.

No, he did not know how to be gentle. His elbows were sharp and his knees were pointy. When he loved, he did not do it gently. He bit down and refused to let go. Sometimes he felt that he needed to clutch Louis so hard he left a bruise just to show he was serious. And that was frustrating too, not to be trusted. Not to be trusted when you told someone you loved him.

***

“I’m not lying to you,” Harry maintained, pushing himself closer to Louis, tugging harder on his collar.

“It’s not funny anymore.” Louis wriggled slightly, feeling desperate for air, his back still pressed against the wall.

“I’m not lying!” Harry’s voice caught, and Louis realized they were both shaking. Tears formed in Harry’s eyes even as tremors shook his face.

“Let go of me.”

“What?”

“I’m safe-wording out of this friendship. Get the fuck off of me.” Louis struggled out of Harry’s grasp at last, blinking back tears. He ran into the corridor and nearly mowed down his clinical therapist Caroline.

“Whoa, what’s the matter?”

“I need to be fucking sedated.”

***

Fucking typical. Here Louis sat, in yet another administrator’s fancy office, getting a talking-to. It felt like being back in primary school.

“There’s a reason we generally don’t promote close relationships between patients on-unit,” said Dr. Hubbard.

“What relationship?” Louis asked tersely. He stared at his hands, which he had folded into his lap.

“Between you and Harry.”

“I don’t know him that well.”

“Well there may be an inquiry about the incident between you two this morning, if you would like to make a statement.”

“Not really.”

“No statement about why you requested sedating? Or why Harry was found in your room, banging his head against the wall?” Dr. Hubbard was, generally speaking, not a total dick, but he was still acting the part of a stern headmaster.

“Guess cuz we’re both crazy.”

“Keep me updated if you change your mind.”

“Will do, sir.”

***

Zayn snagged Louis as he re-entered the unit and grabbed his arm. “What the fuck happened, man? I think he gave himself a concussion.”

“I don’t know. I broke him.” Louis gently removed his arm from Zayn’s grasp and shuffled towards his room.

“How?” Zayn called after him.

“By attempting to make friends in this fucking nuthouse.” Louis turned around as he entered his doorway. “Don’t worry, I’ve been officially reprimanded. It won’t happen again.”

***

During his first manic episode, Harry jumped off a three-story building because he was convinced he had made a “physics breakthrough.” He broke both arms, got stuck in hospital for two weeks, and was put on lithium. It helped for three months.

During his second manic episode, Harry spent 700 quid he didn’t have on twenty-seven tattoos, lost his virginity to someone he met at a biker bar, and tried to steal someone’s dog. He also had taken to sporadically punching walls to test his strength and endurance. His hospital stay was more extensive that time, as his psychiatrist continued to tinker with his medications so that Harry could get more than three hours of sleep per week.

After the third episode, Harry’s mother required a drastic change. Naturally, the third episode involved him borrowing his neighbor’s car and driving it into a small ravine--never mind that he had never learned to drive. He also became convinced that he could become a prophet if he worked hard enough, so he locked himself in his closet and began writing about religion. When his mother finally broke her way into his room, she found two-hundred pages largely filled with gibberish. “The rules do not apply to me,” was his constant refrain. “They just don’t matter.” He began talking about going into prostitution, and his mother was unsure whether he was joking or not.

She decided he needed something more substantial than a rotating staff of home care and excessive hospitalizations. She began to fear for him more than he feared for himself--she began getting less sleep than him, worrying whether he was about to crack his skull open jumping out of a tree or darting into traffic. She actually began to worry he might die.

***

To Harry, life in residential was less frightening than it would have been otherwise. Generally speaking he could be sure that he wasn’t going to kill a family member by accidentally shooting them with an arrow while teaching himself archery. Though he was still convinced he had a masterful archery talent buried inside him, therapy had taught him that mania is kind of a liar.

In some ways, he had grown used to the ups-and-downs. He was better able to manage himself around others. He was especially able to understand that punching people was not a good way to deal with irritation.

What he had failed to learn was what the fuck to do about love.

Love was, to him, a bit like mania. It was bounce-off-the-walls incomprehensible. He had no idea why he wanted to kiss this man, this strange copy of Peter Pan who always had sad-boy eyes, but he was having the hardest time holding himself back.

Harry tried. He truly did not want to crush something--no, someone, Lou was a someone--so beautiful. But he wanted to know him, at least, and he told himself that he could draw the line at friendship.

He had never been good at drawing that line.

Love was part of friendship, was it not? Friendship included a lot of things, and surely love was part of it.

He hadn’t quite got the handle on it, had he?

***

Harry awoke in the early evening, a dull ache in his head. That was a shame. He normally liked early evening, as it had a calming effect on him.

He loved evening--early evening, really. He liked the bit of dying twilight that sped through the air, enjoyed shivering in the gentle chill. His forte was early evenings, when he could finally catch his breath. He would joke about sitting on porch swings and going for walks with pretty girls, but lord knew he did no such thing. Lord knew he just wanted Louis to love him, nothing more. He wanted Louis to hold hands with him as they walked through the village, he wanted Louis to laugh as they kissed by a lamplight just as it lit up.

Not a pretty girl. Not just any pretty guy. This particular man, this darling and ridiculous man.

This man who sent him to madness half the time and who half-time calmed him down. This man who made him feel like he might not die alone.

But for now, Harry’s head hurt and he was trying not to cry.

***

“What the fuck?” Niall said to Harry when he spotted him in the corridor. “What happened to you?”

Harry touched his swollen, bruised eye very tenderly. “Bar fight. Ran into a door. Lovers’ quarrel. You should see the other guy, ha-ha,” he rattled off, putting on a false grin. He hadn’t spoken to Louis today and felt irritation and frustration settling into his head and stomach. Irritation like this usually led to violence--no, used to lead to violence. Harry was getting better now, no violence, no. "No fighting, no biting," like that storybook his mother used to read him as a kid.

And suddenly he was laughing and it sounded insane even to him--high-pitched and terrifying.

Rein it in, he told himself silently.

“No, only joking. I hit my head on a wall. I’m perpetually clumsy like that.” He shrugged, wringing his hands slightly.

“Hey, a bar fight is why I’m here,” Niall replied, seeming not scare off by Harry’s severity.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Got roaring pissed, took a swing at someone who insulted my mate and took two guys down with me before accidentally setting the pub on fire.”

Harry laughed again, loudly. “You’re in good company.” Rein it in, he reminded himself.

“Yeah, well, court-mandated sobriety is, I’ve been told, my only chance at staying out of prison.”

“Hope you’re in capable hands here. Sometimes I think group is just storytelling circle for crazy people,” Harry countered.

“Court-mandated storytelling.”

Harry clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly. Conversations were good, as long as they kept him focused. This new guy, this Niall, he had crooked teeth and a lot of bristly blondish hair and he seemed friendly enough and--

Harry trailed off in the middle of a sentence about shoplifting a Christmas ham when he saw Louis leave his room. Then he began jabbering again, waving at Louis awkwardly.

Louis called, “Group’s starting soon” and walked away.

***

What was he playing at? Louis thought Harry looked like a goddamn woodland nymph and he was just as hard to resist. But Louis was trying to stay away, trying so hard. He knew if he got too close he could ruin that beautiful smile, he could murder it--Christ, the kid had a dimple. And Louis knew he was totally capable of eroding him, of wearing him down. He had a way of ruining beautiful things by pulling them into the depths with him.

And if Louis knew he was never getting out of here, he had no business holding back someone who could. He had no business letting someone else drown in his misery.

He gaped when he saw Harry’s eye. He was fucking up the poor lad already.

So he yelled that group was starting soon and tried to dodge closer to look at Harry’s face. Despite himself, he sighed heavily.

He was startled by Harry’s wink (from his good eye) and he promised himself not to sit next to him in group. His best laid plans, whoever, were as usual derailed by Harry’s manic energy. Harry bounced from chair to chair, murmuring some lullaby. Louis thought it might be Ring-around-the-Rosie.

Louis resolutely avoided eye contact with him.

So he was in a less-than-perfect state to practice mindfulness, which was the topic of group that day. All he was able to focus on was the harsh beating of his heart, and on the painful way his breath caught when Harry passed along a stack of paper for their exercise, grazing the back of Louis’ hand.

Harry leaned sideways and muttered slowly. “We need to talk.”

“No.” Louis helped his breath.

“Why not?” Harry asked, nearly whining and about to fall into Louis’ lap.

“Because.”

“We need to. Not just I want to. Need to.”

“Sh.” And Louis ignored him for the rest of the group.

***

Louis, Zayn, and Niall huddled awkwardly on the smokers’ patio, aware that they were being watched. Though only Niall had a history of actually setting anything aflame, Louis and Zayn were notorious self-injurers, and they were intelligent enough to fuck themselves up epically should they desire to--even during lockup. So they had guards.

But while Louis just wanted an innocent smoke, Zayn wanted to grill him about Harry; Niall, apparently, wanted to listen.

“What’s with you two? I thought you were best friends.”

“Because I’ve known him for two months? You don’t come to a nuthouse to make friends.”

“Fuck you, mate.” Zayn shifted to his left, clearly insulted.

“No offence.”

“Indulge me. I want gossip. I’m bored to fucking tears.”

“This place is weird,” Niall muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Louis said lamely.

“Yes, you did, you impossible twat,” Zayn muttered, eyebrow raised. “But continue.”

“He’s fixated on me.”

“He’s in love with you,” Zayn pointed out.

“No, I’m just the only gay lighthouse in this port and he wants to bone.” Louis sighed as Niall snorted.

“That’s--that’s not true,” Zayn said, flustered.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot about your intermittent bicuriousity.”

“Christ, fellas, is this let’s-be-a-dick day? What’s with all the cutting personal remarks?” Niall asked, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.

“Oh, no worries. Anything mean that someone says? Yeah, I’ve already thought worse about myself,” Zayn started succinctly.

“You depressives are a fun bunch.” Niall snorted, exhaling smoke.

“I was only fun on coke. Sorry.” Zayn paused, fishing another fag out of his packet. “He does that snap-judgment thing though. If he loves you, he knows it right away and he’ll die for you. He just will.”

“That doesn’t mean I need to actively participate in killing him!” Louis flicked his fringe out of his eyes and took another drag off his fag. “Also? Fuck off.”


	2. The New Kid in Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-loading this as it gets edited, thanks for being patient!
> 
> <3

Eight, that's the number of times Liam has washed his hands this morning. He knows that eight seems a bit irrational but he couldn’t wash them seven times. Seven is a bad number, it's odd, and odd numbers don’t sit well with Liam. Odd numbers make him feel as if there are tiny bugs gnawing at his skin, crawling, biting, and making him itch all over.

Yes, seven was bad, very bad indeed but so was six. Six wasn’t enough times to wash away all the bad germs that lived on Liam’s skin, threatening to make him deathly ill at any moment. The worst part of it all is Liam knows this is all irrational, he knows it's crazy but he can’t stop. If Liam stopped surely his world would collapse in around him, or something like that.

“Hurry up Li! I have an audition to make and you have to be dropped off by 11 at the latest!” Danielle yelled. Liam didn’t like it when she yelled. Unfortunately, it seemed the only way Danielle communicated with Liam lately was by yelling. She was sick of him being sick; at least that’s what she’d say when they fought which was nearly every night.  
It was always the same. Liam would be focused on his nightly rituals. He’d brush his teeth twice, then wash his face four times, use the toilet, then wash his hands 8 times before finally coming to bed, closing the door 4 times behind him. And that was when she would start yelling. She would start shouting things like, “Jesus Li, why can’t you just be normal” or “Why can’t you just stop.” It hurt, it made him feel like even more of freak than he already knew he was.

 

The thing was Liam had pondered those very questions himself, several times and maybe if he had the answers he wouldn’t be headed to Shady Pines. Liam looked himself over in the mirror, frowning at the way the skin on his arms looked. Liam had a bad habit of scratching when his worries got too high, his arms sustaining most of the damage. Lately Danielle had taken to some in-home therapy, interrupting Liam midway through his rituals, leaving him dreadfully uncomfortable.

The anxiety would pool just under his skin making him feel as if he might just burst if he didn’t do something to relieve the tension. That’s when he found scratching helped; scratching helped stop the little bugs from gnawing away at his skin. Unfortunately he was anxious more than not lately and he had scratched his arms to the point of breaking skin. His arms were scabby and marred with ugly long, red marks.

Liam felt like a total failure at 20 years old he hadn’t been able to hold down a steady job, as bosses were never understanding of his rituals and people in general terrified him. He wasn’t always this bad, in high school he was popular enough and he had a small group of friends. His life had order, he went to school, then footy practice and finally home. Liam liked structure it made him feel a bit more stable. In fact it made him stable enough to land a pretty girlfriend like Danielle. But even that was falling apart now he supposed.

“Oh for fuck's sake, Liam.” Danielle called out, entering the room in a huff. “Looking at them won’t make them go away, you know. That’s why you’re going to this place, babe. You’re gonna get better, then we can have a real go at our relationship.” She frowned, picking up Liam’s duffle bag from the floor and pulling him from the room.

“Sorry,” Liam murmured softly, wincing slightly at the tight grip she had formed on his arm. He followed her out to the car, holding the front door open for her and then her car door before climbing into the passenger side.

Danielle got in the driver’s seat and tossed Liam’s bag along with her purse, in the back seat. “Just please, stop looking at me like some goddamned kicked puppy. You’re sick, Liam. I’m doing this because I love you.” She muttered, leaning over to kiss Liam on the cheek lightly.

Liam knew the kiss was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn’t. It was flat, emotionless and seemed like it came from a place of wanting to shut him up, rather than a place of love. He stared blankly out the window, only glancing back at their flat once. He wasn’t sure he was going to miss it; it really wasn’t feeling like home lately anyway.

***

“Liam? Li, hey Liam! We’re here.” Danielle shouted, snapping her perfectly manicured nails in Liam’s face.

“Sorry, must have fallen asleep somewhere along the way,” Liam mumbled sleepily, his eyes opening slowly. He glanced out the window to his right at the foreboding old building, skirted with a well-kept lawn, which he assumed was Shady Pines. It didn’t look too bad; it wasn’t chains from the ceiling creepy like the psych hospitals he’d seen in the horror movies Dani liked to watch. But it also didn’t seem quite homey, the stone facade covered with tangled vines.

“Well this is where I leave you,” Dani finally said, pushing the duffle bag into Liam’s arms.

“You’re not gonna walk me in?” Liam asked softly as he tugged at a loose string on the hem of his shirt nervously.

“Come on Li, you know hospitals freak me out. Plus this one is full of mental people.” Danielle shuddered, her hands grasping to the steering wheel firmly.

“O-Oh okay. Um thanks for dropping me off,” Liam stammered, leaning over to kiss her cheek tentatively.

Danielle sighed audibly at Liam’s attempt to display his affection and turned the car back on. “Just go Li, the faster you get better, the faster you can come home," she muttered, not even bothering to return the kiss.

“Um--I hope your audition goes well today. M’sure you’ll get it, you’re a brilliant dancer,” Liam blurted out, reaching over to brush a curl back from Dani’s face.

Danielle flinched slight at Liam’s touch, turning to face him with a look that was equal parts pity and annoyance. “Why do you have to do that? You have these moments where you’re you again and its not fucking fair. It makes me feel like shit for leaving you here.” She groaned, banging her forehead against the steering wheel.

“I’ve always been me. It’s just I’m going through a rough time right now,” Liam explained, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m going to get better though. This time its gonna work, I can feel it! I’m gonna get better then I’ll come home and we can start our life together,” he   
promised, tears welling in his eyes.

“Sure you’re going to get better, that’s what you told me the last 5 times you went off to therapy! I’ll believe it when I see it Liam. Just please get out of my car!” Danielle shouted, reaching over and opening Liam’s door for him.

Liam sat in his seat for a moment his eyes wide and his duffle bag clutched tightly to his chest. He knew that he hurt Danielle, that he was too much to put up with but she had never been this snappy with him. “Uh--see ya later,” he mumbled dejectedly, slipping out of the car. He slung his bag over his shoulder and shut the car door, not once but four times. Once he reached the finally slam, Danielle was pealing out of the drive, kicking up gravel and dust in her wake.

***

Liam pushed his way through the heavy old doors of the hospital, shutting it four times behind him, gaining a few suspicious looks from the nurses and patients wandering the hall. Finally a tiny brunette nurse with a cute pixie looking face stopped him.

“Hey, you look lost, darling. Can I help you?” the pretty nurse asked, her wide brown eyes looking up at Liam sympathetically.

“Y-yeah m’ name’s Liam. I--I’m checking myself in,” Liam muttered nervously, silently cursing Dani for not having the decency to at least help him find the front desk.

“Oh well then, welcome to Shady Pines Liam. I’m Cher, I’m a nurse on the adult unit so we’ll be seeing each other quite often," the pretty brunette explained, giving Liam a smile, which for the first time in a while, actually made him feel safe. “Did anyone bring you here, Liam?” she asked, her voice soft and almost musical.

“Yeah, my girlfriend did--but um she kind of drove away.” Liam frowned, the memory still fresh, stinging just under his skin. The thought made him want to scratch, to replace the emotional pain with something more bearable, more physical.

Cher looked back at him with small frown, and patted him on the back. “I’m sorry, Liam. Let’s get you checked in yeah?” She sighed, gesturing to a door at the end of the hallway.  
Liam took a deep breath as he stood in front of the door with a plaque that named Dr. Hubbard. In Liam’s limited experience, anyone with letters in front of their name was intimidating and spoke far above his level of comprehension. The thought only made his desire to scratch worse.

***

Once Liam was checked in and thoroughly confused by the sheer number of acronyms, medication names and treatments Dr. Hubbard threw his way, he made his way to the adult ward. He was thankful the nice nurse took pity on him enough to help him find his way and carrying his bag.

“Welcome to the adult ward!” she chirped pushing swiping an ID badge to open the locked metal doors. Once the doors opened, a lanky, curly-haired, very naked lad who was being strong-armed down the hall by two men, greeted Liam.

“Hey what’s cookin’ good lookin’?” the curly haired lad called out over his shoulder shaking his bum exaggeratedly in Liam’s direction.

“Oh.” Liam blanched, his eyes fixed on the beige tile floor.

“Just ignore him, that’s Harry, a bit of a fixture around the ward. He does that all the time.” Cher chuckled, giving Liam a reassuring pat on the back.

“Uh--okay I’ll try,” Liam mumbled, giving Cher a weak smile. “Can I just go to my room now? It’s been a long day.” He sighed, anxiety building just beneath the surface of his skin, threatening to cause Liam to break at any moment.

“Yeah, yeah of course dear.” Cher nodded, picking up on Liam’s discomfort. “It’s just around the corner here,” she added, taking Liam by the arm and leading him around the corner. “Ah here we are.” She smiled, stopping in front of a door with a small window in it. “You’ll be living with Nick, he’s a friendly bloke. Ended up here after losing a hundred thousand pounds on a bet that the queens dress would be purple at the royal wedding.” She chuckled, pushing the door open.

Liam gasped as the door opened, revealing a thin brunette man, huddled in the corner with his cock out, wanking as he moaned softly. “Um--uh oh are you sure this is right room?” Liam sputtered, his cheeks flushing bright pink.

“Oh yeah, sorry forgot to mention--Nick is also a bit of a sex addict,” Cher added softly, setting Liam’s bag on his bed. “Oi, Nick put some clothes on, will ya. You’ve got a roommate now,” she scolded, tossing a blanket over Nick’s naked body.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize he’d be moving in so soon.” Nick laughed, walking over to his dresser and putting on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. “I’m Nick.” He smiled, walking over and extending his hand to Liam.

“Uh--yeah no thanks.” Liam shrugged, backing away from Nick. “I’m Liam.” He mumbled, digging frantically through his bag for a bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Maybe we should give Liam his space.” Cher suggested, clapping Nick on the back. “I’m sure Dr. Flack would like to hear about this incident as well," she added arching an eyebrow at Nick.

“But Cher, I’ve been doing so well up until now! Do you have to tell her?” Nick whined, stomping his foot in a childish manner.

“Nick, you know it's hospital policy that I keep Dr. Flack updated on your progress.” Cher sighed, giving Nick a sympathetic look. “So we can either do this the easy way, or I can have some of the unit staff come in here and help me escort you to her office,” Cher added, with a slight threatening edge to her voice.

“Fine,” Nick huffed stepping out the door and waiting for Cher to follow behind him. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot--er hand, mate," he added with a soft chuckle, shooting Liam a sympathetic glance.

“It’s okay,” Liam murmured softly, covering himself from hands to elbows with hand sanitizer, wincing slightly as it stung his fresh scratches.

“Okay, well if you need anything I’ll be wandering around the ward Liam. It was nice to meet you.” Cher smiled, pulling Nick out the door and closing the door behind them.

***

Liam took his time arranging his side of the room, scrubbing every surface with the cleaning supplies he had packed in his duffle. He was in the middle of unpacking his clothes when a tall woman with golden wavy hair poked her head around the door, causing him to drop armful of socks on the floor.

“Oh, sorry for startling you,” she said softly, stepping in the room as Liam scrambled to collect his socks scattered about the floor. She seemed nice enough but Liam was still getting used to everything in this place and couldn’t help but feel a bit on edge.

“S’okay.” Liam muttered, shoving his socks into a drawer awkwardly.

“I’m Dr. Flack, but you can call me Caroline. I’ll be your clinical therapist while you’re here at Shady Pines,” she explained, extending a hand for Liam to shake.

“Nice to m-meet you,” Liam stammered, examining her hand for any potential dirt before shaking it nervously.

“We’re about to start group and I thought it might be nice if you come along. You can get to know the other patients on the unit.” Caroline smiled, pulling her hand back, her eyes darting down the numerous scratches littered across Liam’s arm.

“Sure, that would okay.” Liam nodded; crossing his arms self-consciously in an attempt to cover his scabs and scars.

***

Liam had never attended a group therapy session. As someone who shied away from interacting with other people, groups really weren’t his thing. Being new to a group was even worse; it made his skin crawl and his stomach flip. He swallowed thickly as Caroline lead him to a sitting room where groups of chairs and couches were pulled into a circle. As they entered the room, a hush fell over the group, everyone craning their necks to get a good look at Liam. The weight of their gazes made Liam want to crawl under one of the ridiculously outdated floral sofas and hide.

“Group, this is Liam. He’s new to the unit as well as Niall.” Caroline smiled, gesturing to Liam and then a blond lad who was slumped over in a chair, looking worse for the wear.

Liam waved to the group instinctively, mentally cursing himself for being incredibly socially incompetent as he sat in a stiff leather chair next to Caroline. His eyes scanned the group assembled around them, stopping short on a raven-haired lad who appeared to be deep in thought. He had soft olive skin that was shaded by a thin layer of stubble across his strong angular jaw. He was waifish: all thin limbs and hollow cheeks with intense amber eyes. He looked like an Italian model or a rock star, one that probably owned a motorcycle and could make girls melt with a flash of his mischievous smile, Liam thought to himself. He knew it was weird to star, but he couldn’t help it. The lad’s mysterious aura kept pulling him in.

The session seemed to drone on for Liam, his mind drifting to fantasies of running away with the dark haired lad, Zayn, he had learned he was called. Liam had never been so taken with a bloke before and it was equally unsettling and exciting at the same time. It was all in good fun anyway; it wasn’t like he was looking to form a relationship, what with Dani waiting for him on the outside. It was a bit of distraction, that’s all, a little something to make being stuck in a psych ward a bit more bearable.

“Well I think that’s quite enough for today!” Caroline announced, her voice ringing through Liam’s subconscious and bringing him back to reality. “You’re all free to go get ready for dinner. See you tomorrow," she chirped cheerfully, tucking her files under her arm and leaving the sitting room.

***

Liam made his way back to his room, flopping down on his bed and sighing audibly. He scrubbed his eyes, trying to find the energy to get up and face the crowd of curious gazes again. In the end his desire to see Zayn won out again and if he stared at him through out the entire dinner, well, he wasn’t going to admit it.

***

Zayn sat in the lounge of the adult unit, cup of coffee in one hand and a tattered copy of Wuthering Height that he'd borrowed from the library in the other. Mornings were Zayn’s favorite time of the day on the ward. Before he checked in to Shady Pines, he despised mornings, sleeping until well past two in afternoon in order to ride out the high from the night before. But Zayn was clean now, and the ward was a loud, chaotic mess in the afternoon and evening. Mornings, on the other hand, were peaceful, silent, and perfect for getting in a bit of reading and coffee. He curled his thin legs up on the worn sofa, glancing out the window at the well-groomed gardens just outside.

Zayn was about to start a new chapter when he heard someone shuffle in the room behind him. “Nick for the tenth time, morning is my time to read and be alone. I have no interest in sucking you off in the day room,” he called out, hoping it would be enough to shoo a horny Nick away.

“Um--sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” an unfamiliar voice responded.

Zayn turned his head and was met with a pair of deep chocolate eyes. It was Liam. Zayn was startled to realize he was even more beautiful in the daylight, if that was possible. Zayn hadn’t got a decent look at him yesterday; too afraid he’d meet his gaze. Liam was strong, all well-defined lines and sizable biceps-- yet his face was soft and innocent, giving him the overall look of an overgrown puppy. An overgrown puppy that made Zayn’s stomach flutter and his knees weak.

“It’s okay, I was just enjoying the peace and quiet. You’re welcome to join if you want.” Zayn smiled, patting the sofa next to him.

“Yeah, okay--sure that would be nice.” Liam grinned, shuffling over to the couch self-consciously, his hands tucked in his pockets. He teetered precariously on the edge of the sofa, sitting as far away from Zayn as the rickety old sofa would allow. “I’m Liam, just checked in yesterday,” he offered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah I saw you in group yesterday, remember?” Zayn teased with a slight chuckle. “But we never did get to have a proper introduction. The name’s Zayn, I’m a recovering cocaine addict and part time sad sack of depression.” He grinned, setting the book down on his lap and trailing his eyes over the long and marred red marks covering Liam’s arms.

“Uh, nice to um, meet you I guess,” Liam mumbled with a small shrug. “I’m here to recover from my obsessive compulsive behavior and my tendency to engage in self injurious behaviors,” Liam blurted out, furrowing his brows in confusion. “At least that’s what Dr. Hubbard told me. Personally I think I just need to calm the fuck down or be whacked upside the head.” He chuckled, his posture relaxing slightly. “My girlfriend brought me here because I was ruining her life and she needed some time to breath,” he added an edge of animosity to his voice.

“Ouch, sorry mate. That’s rough! My girlfriend left me when I decided to come here. Apparently I’m not much fun when I’m sober.” Zayn sighed, scooting a bit closer to Liam on the sofa. “So how you holding up? I know my first couple of days here were quite traumatic,” he said sympathetically, patting Liam on the knee.

Liam flinched slightly at Zayn’s touch and retreated further into the corner of the sofa. “It’s been pretty rough,” Liam admitted, picking at a scab on his arm. “The first thing I saw on the ward was a naked man being carried to his room and then I walked in on my roommate Nick wanking in the corner,” he muttered softly, chewing on his lip anxiously.

“Oh Jesus sorry about Nick, he’s a special case,” Zayn sighed, with a fond eye roll. “And it that sounds like you met Harry. Was the naked man tall, all lanky limbs and curly hair?” Zayn asked, knowing well that Harry had a penchant for streaking through the ward.

“Yeah, it was definitely him, he seems a bit intense.” Liam nodded, chewing on his lip with even more intensity.

“He’s harmless I promise, well at least for you.” Zayn smiled, giving Liam a reassuring glance. “Hey--stop doing that,” he scolded, pointing to Liam’s lower lip, which was held between his teeth in a tight grip. “You’ve got lovely lips, it’d be a shame to leave them all scabbed up,” he said softly, running a thumb along Liam’s lower lip.

Liam was locked in a mental debate of whether to push Zayn’s hand away or to kiss him when the sound of loud shouts echoing down the hallway. “Wha-what was that?” he breathed, still a bit starry-eyed.

“Fuck.” Zayn cursed, jumping up from the sofa, leaving his book and cup of coffee on the table. “That sounded like Louis and Harry, nothing but trouble. Those two, I swear to god, all they do is hurt each other and yet they’re head over bullocks in love,” he muttered, heading off in the direction of the muffled shouts. “Sorry, perhaps another time.” He frowned, waving at Liam before turning on his heel and taking off in a sprint down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our tumblrs
> 
> musiclily
> 
> &
> 
> chicagocuppycake


	3. But at What Cost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about sex.

“So. OCD then?” Louis drawled to Niall, elbowing him slightly as they walked down the corridor past Liam. “That’s kind of interesting.”

“Yeah. Guess so,” Niall said, all easy grins and fidgeting fingers. He peered sideways at Louis’ face for a moment. “Cool scar.” He pointed to Louis’ eyebrow with an impressed nod.

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

“Um. Sorry?”

“No. So. Wanna go out for a smoke?”

“Fook yeh,” Niall exhaled in a laugh, immediately looking more relaxed.

“Only, don’t try to light my fringe on fire this time, yeah?”

They let the BHAs crowd them outside to the smokers’ patio, wary of the cold wind and impending rain.

“How long you think that black eye will last?”

Louis exhaled sharply before lighting a fag. “Fuck. He’s such—”

“He loves you.”

“You got here like a day-and-a-half ago, what the fuck do you know.”

Niall snorted. “Seems I know a lot more than you do, mate.”

“He busted his eye open because of me. I’m no good here.”

“He ran down the corridor without pants to make you laugh,” Niall pointed out.

“He would do that anyway.”

“Are you sure he didn’t do it to make you laugh?”

“It’d be worse if he did. What kind of positive influence am I if the shit he does to please me keeps him in here longer?”

“He’s not in here because of you, though.”

“If I get to him, though, he’ll never leave.”

“Oh, mate. You’re a fucking moron.” Niall exhaled with a chuckle. “Give me another fag.”

“Nah, it’s almost time for trust fund. Come on, I’ll show you the ropes.” Louis stubbed his cigarette out beneath his toes and led Niall back inside.

They headed to the ground-floor lounge and sat around the tables as other residents filed in around them. “So basically,” Louis began as he and Niall sat down, “we’re entitled to up to twenty quid twice a week for sundry items this place doesn’t automatically supply. Like fags or that shite coffee from the machine or whatever. We’re legally entitled to it or something. NHS or the queen or the PM. They don’t want us to be alcoholics but smoking fiends are NHS-approved I guess.”

“That’s encouraging. Detoxing from one really blows. Doubt I could quit both right now.”

“Imagine how Zayn feels. He had to quit coking up, cutting, restricting food, and he’s on hiatus from tattoos. Well, obviously, given that he’s in here.” Louis shrugged and watched more residents filter into the lounge.

“And you?” Niall asked quietly.

“Oh me? I just had to give up trying to die. A simple enough concept, really.”

“Theoretically anyway. And Harry?”

“Oh, he’s manic to the point of religious psychosis. He was convinced he would fly.” Louis sighed as he watched Harry enter the room. He flitted around lightly, waving to residents and skipping from corner to corner. Then he flung himself bodily onto a tall, slender resident who grasped his waist and swung him around, laughing.

Louis scowled and clenched his jaw. No matter how often Harry insisted he was serious, could be committed, knew what he wanted, he was still distracted by the newest shiny thing. He was always going to leave for the next best thing to come along. And Louis _knew that,_ of course he did, but his stupid fucking heart refused to listen.

“Who’s that, then?” Niall asked, breaking Louis from his angry reverie.

“Nick,” Louis growled before clearing his throat and schooling his face into passivity.

“You _hate_ him!” Niall asserted with wonder and curiosity in his voice.

“Damn right I do. He’s very hateable.” Louis crossed his arms over his chest.

Niall chuckled. “Why?”

“You walk in on his masturbating as many times as I have and you’ll hate him too.”

This statement made Niall snort.

“See how shell-shocked Liam is? Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re roommates.”

“What’s he _here_ for then?” Niall pulled an unlit cigarette from his pocket and flipped it over in his hands while Louis eyed him. “Yeah, I nicked this off you earlier, sorry.”

“Whatever. He’s got impulse control problems. Gambling, sex addiction, the like.”

“Quite a weird village here at Shady Pines. Everyone knows everything about everyone then?” Niall stuck the unlit cigarette behind his ear and cracked his knuckles, glancing around the room.

“Yeah, it’s a super elite youth hostel for the beautiful and damned. We all party together.” Louis rolled his eyes, then waved at Liam and smiled, trying to appear as though he didn’t care that Nick was kissing Harry’s neck. “Oi, Leem. Come sit.”

Liam walked over to them and sat down gingerly before crossing and un-crossing his legs eight times.

“Sorry,” he said, wincing at Niall and Louis.

“No worries. It’s part of your pathology.” Louis shrugged, staring intently at Liam. “You’re bunking with Nick, then, right?”

“Yeah. Um. Got a warm welcome from him.”

“Saw his dick within four minutes, eh?”

“Not even.”

“Off to an auspicious start then?” Niall said with a chuckle.

“At least he doesn’t bite. We had a guy in here who used to bite everything. Tables, paper, his arms, other people’s clothes. It was ridiculous.” Louis sighed and stretched his arms above his head.

“Been here long then?” Liam asked politely.

“Just been here a lot. The step-downs don’t really work for me as well as they’re intended to. Guess my will to self-destruct is too great.”

“Is this your first time here?” Niall asked Liam. “It’s first for me. I ran through too many outpatient programs. Court-mandated lockdown care is apparently my final straw.”

“Um, first time here. Regular therapy wasn’t—wasn’t quite enough help. Or so my girlfriend said.” Liam trailed off, clenching his fists.

“Your girlfriend? Huh.” Louis raised a brow.

“You think I’m too weird to have a girlfriend?” Liam asked quietly.

“Not particularly. Just thought I saw you making googly eyes at the unit’s certified male model.” Louis gestured across the room with his shoulder as Zayn walked into the room.

“Zayn’s not ever a male model,” Niall responded, barking out a laugh.

“How do you think he got into coke? Honestly.”

Liam squinted across the room. “I’ve seen him before, I think. Before here.”

“Hang out with a lot of male models, do you?” Niall elbowed him in the side.

“My girlfriend does. She’s a dancer.”

“Can she introduce me to her hot friends?” Niall asked immediately.

“Are you going to light their _hair_ on fire?” Louis responded.

“Not on purpose.” Niall smiled and waved at Zayn, who came to sit by them. “So are you really a model, then?”

“Yeah, I was. You think I’d just fall into a coke addiction otherwise?” Zayn rolled his eyes, just as Louis. Clearly this routine was old hat between the two of them.

“I think I saw you at a party once,” Liam muttered from the seat beside Zayn. “I think you were DJ-ing while some girl kept trying to take your kit off.”

“Probably. That sounds like something my ex would do. She was a bit of an exhibitionist and liked to shanghai me into participating.” Zayn’s fingers twitched at the collar of his t-shirt.

“And you were, what, perfectly fine sticking to snorting lines off a hooker’s ass?” Louis asked, pulling a face at Zayn.

“My ex is not a hooker. She’s an actress,” Zayn countered.

“Why are you standing up for someone who dumped you because you decided to get sober?” Louis fairly retorted.

“Because she’s a really good lay and I resent the insinuation that I ever had to pay for it!”

Liam burst out laughing.

“What about you, kitten-tits? Any grievances to air?” Louis asked, gesturing to Liam with his chin.

“My girlfriend pulled an ‘I’ll slow down, you jump out’ when she dropped me off here.” Liam shrugged.

“That’s cold,” Niall said sympathetically.

“What about you, then, mate?” Liam asked, cocking his head to one side and looking at Niall inquisitively.

“I dunno, I guess I spent too much time pissed to really get fucked over by anyone very much,” Niall mused. “I kind of did the fucking-over.”

“We forgive you,” Liam replied, quirking a smile just for Niall. “No one’s perfect.”

Louis raised a brow and smirked at Liam before nodding. “You’re all right, you know.”

“Thanks. I try.” 

Liam cast his eyes down, and so he did not see the look that Louis and Zayn shared conspiratorially. Niall caught their glance, however, and took it upon himself to change the subject.

“So what is trust fund then, exactly?” Niall asked, hoping to glaze over the intensity of the situation.

“Oh!” Zayn responded, perking up slightly. “It’s how you get money when you’re on-unit.”

Harry skipped over to the group and sat down hard on Louis’ lap. Then he ducked down and murmured into Louis’ ear. “Hey, lover. Showing the new folks the ropes?”

“Something like that,” Louis answered, flushing slightly and scrabbling so Harry wasn’t sitting so deeply into his crotch. “You remember the lads?”

“Distinctly!” Harry pointed his way around the group. “Liam, new kid, likes the number eight and also has lovely eyes. Zayn, he’s not new, used to like cocaine but then things changed and also he used to like pussy so things definitely change. Niall, also new, you like girls and booze and apparently fire, but mostly you don’t mix all of them together, just the last two.” Harry grinned down at Louis. “How’d I do?”

“I hesitate to ask how you’d describe me,” Louis drawled.

“Beautiful to the point of devastation,” Harry answered promptly. “I assumed you were aware.”

Louis nearly gagged. “Flattering, Styles.”

“Also true.” Harry shrugged and planted a kiss on Louis’ forehead.

“I was just explaining what trust fund is to the new ones,” Louis added quietly, staring pointedly at Zayn.

“Oh!” Harry perked up. “Basically you get money for shit. They call your name and you tell them how much you want at the moment. Twenty quid’s the limit for most of us but I think it depends on the program you’re in. And like family and whomever can give you more if they can or want. It’s like the law or something that you get at least twenty I think.” Harry shrugged, sliding down Louis’ knee slightly.

“What do you spend it on?” Liam asked, looking at Harry intently.

“Oh me? I usually spend it on caffeine or something but a lot of people like to buy cigarettes. I think sometimes people bribe the nurses or BHAs too, actually,” Harry added. “To get them stuff or to give them special privileges. I haven’t tried that.”

“Not that you’d need to,” Louis stated, making sure to meet Harry’s eye-line as he did so. “Given that you’re the unit favorite.”

“I’m just proper adorable, that’s all.” Harry curled further into Louis’ lap and smiled contentedly.

Louis looked sideways at Harry in his lap and he stared unwillingly at Harry’s mouth. Normally a mouth was simply a mouth to him, a means of speaking and working food into one’s body. Louis understood that Harry’s lips were simply lips on one lovely person, that they should mean nothing to him, that they should have no effect on him at all. But Louis somehow, somehow loved the notion that he could bite Harry’s lips, that he could leave bruises on Harry’s neck and that it might _mean something._

Or at least, that’s what everyone had told him, if only he would listen.

Of course what he said was, “Not half as adorable as you think you are, silly.”

“Stop flirting,” Niall replied, grinning at them both to show he was joking,

“You say flirting like it’s a bad thing,” Harry responded, biting his lip with a glance toward Louis.

“Is it?” Niall asked pointedly. He licked his lips in Harry’s direction and nodded slightly. Harry flushed.

“Probably not as bad as you think,” Louis answered, chuckling at Niall. “People have to stay entertained somehow.”

“Whatever you say, kitten-tits,” Niall responded, echoing Louis’ earlier sentiment.

“You’ve gotta admit, Lou, he fits in pretty well already,” Zayn drawled, sparing a smile Niall’s way.

“Of course he does. We’re nothing if not accommodating and friendly,” Louis immediately parroted back to him.

“Not quite the phrase I’d use, but okay,” Harry answered with a smirk, leaning in to give Louis a kiss on the cheek.

“Stop it, you harlot,” Louis squawked, nearly upending Harry from his lap. “I do not need your kisses!”

“Liar.”

“Hush, trust fund is starting,” Zayn said, nodding at the open door towards a social-services worker. He pointedly did not look at Liam.

The group sat through the impatient roll call that preceded trust fund while Louis quietly explained the process to Niall and Liam. Harry bounced quietly on Louis’ knee and slung his arm around Louis’ neck. Louis, for his part, feigned obliviousness and continued whispering. Then the group waited as a BHA or a CNA or some other public official (he barely cared or paid attention to who this staff-member was at the best of times, and Louis was currently distracted by a bouncy and adorable Harry) handed out their money.

Once they had their money in hand, they all stood up, Louis jostling Harry off his lap gently.

“What should I do with it, though?” Liam asked, fist held loosely around the crumpled bills in his hand.

“Buy coffee or soda or cigs,” Louis suggested, shrugging. Louis kept his eyes on Harry and bit his lip as he saw him prance across the room to poke Nick in the ribs. “Just don’t gamble with it.”

“What if I don’t really need any of those things?” Liam looked to Zayn and Louis both for his answer.

“Well that’s what people buy most often, but you don’t have to,” Zayn said slowly. “You don’t smoke?”

“No. It’s—no, I don’t.”

“It’s not hygienic?” Louis asked, quirking a brow as he so often did.

“Mostly.”

“Something to keep in mind, Zayn,” Louis advised, walking across the room to Harry, who had an arm slung around Nick’s necl. “All right?” he asked them, stilling his features into a collected scowl. He could be calm and collected and normal. He could, and he would.

“Mostly,” Nick said with a smile. “Young Harold here was thrilling me with the tale of how he got his shiner.”

“Hit his face against a wall, didn’t he?” Louis responded, eyes on Harry.

“Yeah. He was just telling me why.”

“Oh.” Louis took a breath. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“You do though, don’t you?” Nick said with a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Interrupt.”

“My apologies. I’ll leave you to your heartfelt romantic entanglement, then.” Louis turned on his heel and exited the resident lounge.

“Go after him!” he heard Nick call.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?” Harry yelled into the corridor, stopping Louis in his tracks.

“Are you trying even remotely to be flattering?”

“No.” Harry walked toward him slowly. “I’m trying to be honest.”

“You know that’s worse, right?”

“Why are you afraid of me?” Harry murmured from slightly behind Louis. Louis shivered slightly, realizing just how closely Harry was standing to him.

“I kind of think you know why. Just leave me alone. Please.”

“I don’t know why, though. Not really.”

Louis sighed in lieu of answering.

“Who fucked you up?”

“I dunno, mate. Maybe it was you.”

***  
Harry knocked on Nick’s door a short time later. “Liam’s not here right?” he asked when Nick told him he could enter.

“Does it matter?”

Harry stood in the doorway, though he was unable to keep his whole body still. He veritably shook with excess energy, all twitchy fingers and wandering eyes. He nibbled at his bottom lip, trying to gauge Nick’s mood while simultaneously attempting not to split at the seams.

“No,” Nick sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting on his bed. “He’s not. Are you up right now?”

Up. Up, was he up? Harry had nearly lost the ability to differentiate between manic, hypomanic, euthymic, and all the other ridiculous-sounding words his doctors bandied about. Lately his moods cycled too quickly for him to really bother tracking them. He might be up, he concluded.

“Does it matter?” Harry entered the room and shucked off his shirt. He tossed it into a corner and immediately forgot about it.

“To me? Not in so many words. It might matter to others.”

“Others like who? Take off your clothes, come on,” Harry insisted, stalking over to where Nick sat.

“I will if you can tell me you wouldn’t rather be with Louis right now.”

“I thought you were supped to be a _sex addict.”_

“I’m in recovery.”

“You’d rather get off alone than with me?”

“At least I love myself. You sure as hell don’t love me. Only got eyes for one man, don’t you?”

“You don’t want me either? Fine. Banner fucking day for me, then.” Harry picked up his discarded shirt and shoved it over his head.

“What do you mean?” Nick eyed him quizzically.

“You and Louis both. Two for two rejection day.”

“Christ, what is he thinking?” Nick muttered.

“What are _you_ thinking? You just turned me down too!”

“Yeah, cuz you’re stupid in love with someone.”

“I’m not ever stupid,” Harry responded reluctantly, his voice gone syrupy and slow.

“You are incredibly stupid and you entirely missed the point of my rousing speech!”

“Not that arousing, really,” Harry grumbled.

“Not _arousing,_ you great tit. Rousing. He’s stupid for you too but he probably thinks you’re getting your rocks off with _me_ all the time.”

“But I _am_ getting my rocks off with you all the time.”

“Not cuz you love me, though, just because we’re both hard-up.”

“How very dare you!”

“You are hard-up, even if you’ve got beautiful curls that young girls would murder puppies for.”

“No. I meant that I love you just fine.”

“Right, Haz, I know, you’ve got a lot of love to give. So go give it to Louis.”

“I _tried,”_ Harry insisted. “Repeatedly.”

“Yes, he’s stubborn and idiotic like you, but in his case he thinks you’re just using him for sex.”

_“What.”_

“Ridiculous, right? Because that’s what you’re using me for, obviously.” Nick looked at Harry sympathetically. “Go talk to him again. If he hasn’t changed his mind by the end of the week, I’ll pity shag you.”

***  
Louis could never decide if he preferred the Expressive Arts group or the Creative Writing group better. All he knew was that neither one required him to talk about his feelings in front of a motley crew of addicts and depressives, plus attendance usually earned him vague karma points with the staff. When Louis’ was on the staff’s good side, they let him take extra-long smoke breaks and would sneak him food that was actually edible. He also liked that Zayn usually attended both groups with him, as he felt Zayn had a calming influence on him.

But today Zayn was not in Creative Writing with him, and Louis was irritated. Louis typically liked the dramatics of being irritated, but he performed better with an audience. Zayn would have listened patiently and sympathized with him, probably even understood his irritation. But at the moment all he had was a stack of paper and a chewed-up biro to vent to.

Their prompt for Creative Writing was simultaneously easy and really fucking difficult. They were to describe a color without naming it, merely describing the emotions it evoked in them.

Louis had initially tried writing about the color blue but his mind was stubbornly blank. His irritation was palpable, and normally he would have focused on it, honed it so that he could use it for inspiration, but he was hesitant to put too fine a point on it. He was worried his irritation might explode into something much more violent if he prodded it too much.

“Why don’t you try green instead?” Cher asked him quietly. Louis started; he hadn’t noticed her sit down next to him. “Maybe a soothing light green?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He uncapped his pen and set in on the paper.

_When a perfect breeze hits the back of my neck on a bright-sunshine afternoon, I think of you. I think of you when I need just five minutes of calm even though you are an ocean to me. You never stop moving. You beat relentlessly in the gentlest ways. You have worn a groove into my side, and the only thing that will ever fit there is you. You are the mint leaves I pulled from the back garden, and your scent lingers on my fingertips for hours. You are every cracked-spine book on my shelf, every careworn strip of photo-booth pictures I used to keep in my wallet. Sometimes I think you might taste like lemonade. Your name coats my tongue like syrup, slow and sweet and alarmingly gentle. I could drown in you so slowly I would never notice I was sinking._

For the next five minutes, Louis sat still, staring at the words he had written down. He barely heard Cher dismiss them, and he paid no attention to her as she collected pens and unused pieces of paper.

He turned to look at her when she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Louis, honey? Is everything okay?”

He blinked up at her. “I don’t know.”

***  
Louis ran into Harry on his way back from group—nearly bodily ran him over, in fact, as he turned a corner.

“Shit,” Louis muttered, stumbling backwards slightly. “Sorry.” He tried to edge his way around Harry but was stopped short by a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s fine. Listen, I need to talk to you.”

“No, we’re good. Ship-shape. Gotta go!” Louis tried to gently remove his arm from Harry’s grasp.

“I’m not having sex with Nick!” Harry blurted, tightening his grip.

“What, like, right this minute?” Louis responded before he could help himself. “I can see that.”

“No, I mean. Well yes, obviously, but I don’t have feelings for him or anything.”

“Okay. That’s good. He’s kind of a tart, though I think he prides himself on it. Probably best not to get too attached.”

“Is that what you think of me then? That I’m a tart and you shouldn’t get attached?” Harry’s voice was small, and the sound of it hit Louis like a kick to the ribs.

“No. That’s not what I think of you.”

“What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re going to get out of here someday while I waste away on the geriatric unit, compiling long lists of people I used to know once upon a time and how much better off they are than me.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do. That’s the problem.”

***

“Hey, Cher?” Niall began, sidling up to the nurses’ station coyly.

“Yes, Niall.”

“You look very pretty today.”

She raised a brow at him but gave him a smile nonetheless. “Thank you, Niall. Is there anything I can help you with at the moment?”

“Where do I go to buy cigarettes?”

“Let me show you.” She moved from behind her desk and led him down the corridor. He saw Zayn sitting in a chair at the end of the hall reading. Niall shot him a wink before he turned a corner.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Totally on the pull,” he muttered.

“Who is?” Liam asked from his perch on the floor where he was trying to meditate unsuccessfully.

“Niall. Impressive that he thinks Cher will have anything to do with him, though.”

“Dunno, he’s kind of charming.”

“Zayn?”another voice called. Liam and Zayn both looked up to see Louis walking toward them. “I need you for a minute.”

Louis’ eyes were bright, not entirely full of tears but certainly shining.

“Sure.” Zayn scrambled to his feet and followed Louis to a quiet corner. “What’s up, mate?”

“I need you to read this.” He shoved his paper into Zayn’s hands and nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot. “From Creative Writing today.”

Zayn nodded and focused intently on the words in front of him. He squinted in concentration before nodding again, murmuring something noncommittal. He reached the end of the page and looked up. “Okay.”

“So? What do you think?”

“I like it,” Zayn answered, knowing that was not what Louis was asking.

“What do you think, Zayn?” Louis asked flatly.

“You are so beyond fucked, mate.”


	4. The Thorazine Shuffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Danielle makes a less than successful visit.

“How's the book coming along?” Liam asked curiously, peeking up at Zayn over the old magazine he was pretending to read. It had become kind of a thing, Liam joining in on Zayn’s morning ritual of coffee and books in the lounge. Problem was, Liam didn’t actually like reading or coffee but he did like Zayn. Zayn was calm, he made Liam feel settled almost--well as settled as someone with severe anxiety could get.

“It’s alright, a bit too prose laden and morose for my taste, but it’ll have to do until my package from my mum arrives.” Zayn shrugged setting the leather bound book down on his lap. “I can lend you a book you know? You don’t have to read those five-year-old magazines,” he offered with a soft chuckle, knocking the magazine from Liam’s hand.

“Um--not sure that would be any better.” Liam frowned picking the magazine up off the floor and setting it on the coffee table. “M’ kind of illiterate.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Illiterate? Nah mate you can’t be.” Zayn, frowned, patting Liam’s knee reassuringly. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” He sighed, tilting Liam’s chin up so he was forced to look him in the eyes. “Liam, you’re way too hard on yourself,” he said sincerely, trying hard not to think about how close their faces were and how Liam’s lips we’re practically heart shaped.

“No, I actually can’t read very well.” Liam sighed, already feeling horrible that he’d have to disappoint Zayn. “I’m dyslexic on top of everything else. I’m a right mess.” He breathed, keeping his eyes down in an attempt to avoid Zayn’s gaze.

“You’re not anymore of a mess than the rest of us,” Zayn said softly, leaning back against the sofa. “I’ve fucked up my life in exchange for a girl who dumped me over sobriety. I used to go on cocaine binges that would end with me waking up somewhere strange, and with barely any idea how I got there. Then when the high would wear off, I resorted to cutting myself to feel something other than being completely empty,” Zayn rambled on, running a hand through his hair nervously. “To top it all off, I can’t even eat right.” He sighed sadly, hoping Liam would still want to hang out with him now that it was all out on the table.

“Zayn.” Liam breathed, struggling to find the right words to say, that none of that stuff mattered, that he thought Zayn was lovely and sweet, and that he was the first person to make him feel normal in years.

Sadly, Liam never got to express any of his thoughts as Cher interrupted, poking her head around the corner with a soft cough. “Liam, you’ve got a visitor,” she chirped as a familiar head of curly hair appeared in the doorway.

“Dani?” Liam gaped, jumping up from the sofa and running over to his girlfriend. “I’m so happy you’re here!” He cheered, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before leading her to his room with a small wave good bye to Zayn.

******

“She’s here.” Zayn groaned, flopping over on his bed.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Louis laughed, setting down the magazine he was paging through.

“Liam’s awful girlfriend. The one that dumped him by the curb, and he actually looked happy to see her,” Zayn explained before burying his face in his pillow.

“Imagine that Liam was happy to see his girlfriend, who is the first visitor he’s had in his 2 weeks here.” Louis retorted with an eye roll in Zayn’s direction. “What does it matter to you anyway? Wait--you fancy him, don’t you?” he added with smirk.

“No--maybe, I-I he’s just, okay yeah so I do,” Zayn muttered dejectedly, his pink cheeks hidden by the pillow. “I’m so fucked. This is not going to end well, relationships in here never do.” He sighed heavily, peeking up at Louis.

“Oh is that so? Well then guess there is no use in trying, is there?” Louis frowned, looking down at his lap.

“Shit I didn’t mean that, well who I am I to say--Lou, you and Harry--it’s different, he’s so in love with you. I’m an idiot, don’t listen to me.” Zayn rattled out, trying to quickly patch things up.

“No, no you’re right. We’re all just too damaged to make it work. There’s not much point. Who wants to date a fuck up like me? I’m a broken mess. Harry can do so much better. He only wants me because I won't have him or something like that innit?” Louis mumbled with a shake of his head. “Only the irony is, I would have him. I’m so far gone for that manic, gangly angel. But it’s useless; I’m never getting out of here. Harry’s going to be alright, he’ll land on his feet. He’s young and too pretty for his own good, he could get by on those dimples alone. But me, I’ve got nothing waiting for me on the outside but a disappointed mum.”

“Lou.” Zayn breathed, climbing onto Louis bed and hooking an arm around his shoulders. “You’re going to get out of here. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He added with a small smile.

“I don’t know about that, but thanks--it’s nice to know someone cares.” Louis smiled weakly and leaned into Zayn’s hold.

“Of course I care! You’re my best mate!” Zayn grinned and pressed a quick peck to Louis’ forehead.

“Best mate? Really?” Louis gaped, laughing at Zayn’s display of affection.

“Yeah, really. All my mates on the outside are junkies, they treated me like shit but I was always too high to realize that. You’re the first decent person I’ve met in years.” Zayn admitted with a small nod.

“Well shit, you sure know how to make a lad feel special.” Louis laughed, wrapping an arm around Zayn’s waist. “But really, Liam is thick if he doesn’t see how wonderful you are.”

“You’re only saying that because you feel like you have to,” Zayn grumbled and rested his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“Nah mate, you’re a fucking model for Christ’s sake!” Louis gasped, giving Zayn’s waist a gentle squeeze.

“Former model,” Zayn corrected with a small chuckle.

“Whatever, same thing mate. Either way you’re beautiful, an idiot but beautiful,” Louis teased, hooking his chin over Zayn’s head.

********

Liam ushered Danielle to his room, closing the door behind him seven times as he mumbled about the size of the room and apologized for the state of Nick’s side of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dani huffed, sitting down on Liam’s bed with a less than amused expression on her face.

“Well, I was under the impression that I’m here to get better. That’s why you dropped me off here right?” Liam mumbled, sitting down next to Danielle carefully as if she might disappear if he didn’t do it properly.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why you’re here! So why are you hanging around with that cokehead? You know he’s nothing but trouble! I used to see him round parties, he’s a fucking mess. Trust me. He and that twat of girlfriend of his were always blazed out of their minds. They fucking robbed a liquor store once,” Danielle rambled on becoming more and more annoyed by the minute.

“Well Zayn is the nicest person I’ve met since checking in here. I dunno he just gets me, you know? He doesn’t judge me or think I’m weird.” Liam sighed, picking at an old scab on his arm nervously.

“Oh like me? Is that what you’re implying, that some junkie you barely know treats you better than I do?” Dani spat, crossing her arms over her chest tightly.

Liam could feel bile rising in his throat. He’d set Dani off and once she was angry there was no stopping her, especially not for Liam. He was a perpetual disappointment, the broken boyfriend, a black mark on her otherwise charmed life. “T-that’s not what I meant!” Liam muttered, his dull nails breaking the new skin on his arm. “But maybe it’s worth discussing, you haven’t exactly been the most supportive. It’s been two weeks and you’ve barely bothered to check on me. Hell I was lucky you even stopped the car and didn’t just push me out on the curb,” he added, his demeanor switching from anxious to bitter.

“Liam, I had a fucking audition. Do you expect to stop my life just because you’re a mental case? You know dating you isn’t exactly a picnic!” Dani growled, standing up from the bed to pace the room. “Typical, you know you fucking do this all the time. Poor Liam, the victim always being bullied by his bitch of a girlfriend--I’m getting pretty fucking tired of it! You can’t just get through life batting your big dumb brown eyes at people. Cute only gets you so far and it doesn’t cover up what a goddamn mess you are!” She huffed, looking over at the perfectly arranged toiletries on Liam’s dresser judgmentally.

“Is that what you really think of me?” Liam gaped, his jaw clenching as he followed Dani’s gaze. “Dani, I’m fucking sick! It’s not like I enjoy having to close the door seven times or scratching my arms raw! Do you think this is fucking fun, that I wanna be the victim?” he snapped, holding up his arm so the fresh bleeding scratch was on display.

“That exactly what I think!” Dani barked, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You’re not sick, people with cancer are sick! You’re pathetic, that’s what you are.” She groaned, rolling her eyes at Liam angrily.

“Well if I’m that fucking pathetic--”Liam trailed off getting up from the bed and walking toward the door and pushing Dani out of the way rather forcefully. “Here’s the door, so why don’t you get the fuck out!” he yelled, grabbing Dani by the arm and shoving her out the door. “How’s that for a victim?” he seethed, slamming the door in Dani’s face.

 

***

Nick was returning from his late morning session with Dr. Flack, his hand on the doorknob when it flung open to a screaming Liam. Without warning a curly haired brunette was flung into his arms as the door slammed shut. “Hi?” he murmured, thoroughly confused.

“Get your hands off me, I’ve dealt with enough crazy today. Tell Liam that if he fucking puts his hands on me again, I’ll come back with a lawyer,” Dani huffed, stomping off down the hall with her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Nick poked his head around the door to find Liam punching a rather sizable hole in the wall. He’d had his fair share of beat downs after a bet gone wrong, enough to know that he did not possess the mental fortitude or brute physical strength to take on an angry Liam. Besides his face was far too pretty to risk any possible damage. He decided the best course of action would be to flee to the nurse’s station.

“I’d like to report a domestic. My roommate has large biceps and judging by the amount of screaming, I’m afraid that it may become a homicide. And lord knows if that boy stabs me once, he’ll have to stab six more times.” Nick breathed out as he leaned against the nurse’s station, panting slightly.

“What are you bloody on about?” Cher asked, setting down the worn copy of Cosmopolitan she was reading behind the counter. “I was just about to find out what kind of girlfriend Zayn is,” she whined, looking over at Nick with a frown settling on her small pouty lips.

“Liam?” Zayn asked, gaining a small nod of confirmation from Nick. “It’s okay Cher I’ll take care of it. It’s Liam’s awful girlfriend, she puts him in quite a mood and he’s rather particular about who’s around when he’s upset,” he explained, patting Nick on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Zayn you know you don’t actually work here, right?” Cher replied, rolling her eyes.

“Oh thank you for that oh so insightful information, that could be why my paycheck I’ve been waiting on for three months never showed. Of course I fucking know that! I don’t even have proper shoes!” Zayn retorted as he looked down at his worn in slippers.

“Don’t make me call Dr. Flack!” Cher warned, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Zayn.

“Don’t make me tell Dr. Flack that you’ve been sucking Niall’s cock!” Zayn challenged, shifting his eyes into a steely gaze.

“Yeah right, he wishes. That’s not happening--at least not yet.” Cher snorted, rolling her eyes at Zayn sardonically.

“I knew it! You know, Nurse Lloyd, that fraternizing with patients is not only immoral but also illegal. We’re a vulnerable population!” Zayn teased, hopping up on the counter and poking Cher’s cheek.

Cher batted Zayn’s hand away from her face and pushed him off the counter. “Ged off! I was only taking the piss. I’d never actually do that!” She laughed as Zayn scrambled to his feet.

“Well, you’ve said it now, and I’m a bit mental--there’s no telling what I’ll do with that information,” Zayn drawled, brushing non-existent dirt off his knees.

Cher shook her head at Zayn and tossed a crumpled up piece of paper at his head. “Oh come off it, just go console your boyfriend before he destroys the ward like some OCD Godzilla,” she added gesturing off down the hall.

“Wow--that’s shockingly brash even coming from you. He’s not my boyfriend and you shouldn’t talk about him like that!” Zayn defended, tossing the bit of paper back at Cher.

“Kidding, once again! Wow I should really tell Dr. Flack to work on your social skills.” Cher groaned, dodging the bit of paper and slicking her tongue out at Zayn.

“Fuck off Chez. You know I’m your favorite, I let you bum fags off me, you cheap twat.” Zayn chuckled, blinking at her innocently.

“Um, hello? Not to interrupt this little moment you lot are having, but uh--domestic dispute, large angry man, big biceps, imminent danger,” Nick rambled on impatiently as muffled shouts came from down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah just get out of here alright, both of ya,” Cher mumbled, picking up a chart and pretending she actually had work to do.

“Later darling. I’ll see yas out on the smoker’s patio. Lord knows I’ll need it after this.” Zayn sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked away. Nick quickly heading in the other direction, keen to be nowhere near his angry roommate.

***

“Liam?” Zayn called out softly, pushing the door to his room open carefully.

“Go away.” Liam grumbled, another solid punch connecting with the hole in the wall.

Zayn cautiously shuffled in the room, sitting down on the edge of Liam’s bed. He didn’t fear Liam like Nick did, it seemed they had a special sort of connection or at least they were close enough that he knew Liam wouldn’t punch him. Actually, until now Zayn believed Liam wasn’t capable of harming anyone or anything. Though he supposed Dani did deserve it and the hospital walls were quite thin. “I’m not going anywhere,” he added, keeping his voice low and even in attempt to calm Liam.

“Fine, but just know I’m fucked up.” Liam grunted, fist connecting with plaster again. “I’m pathetic.” Another firm blow. “Fucked up, sick, a victim,” he muttered, Dani’s words still fresh in his mind.

“Liam.” Zayn breathed, a frown settling on his face as he watched him continue to beat the wall into submission. “You know that’s not true. Not any of that.” He murmured soothingly.

“But it is. I’ve failed about twenty different treatment programs. I can’t stop, I want to so bad. I want to be normal, I want to have a job, I want to stop being such a fucking disappointment to everyone who cares about me,” Liam mumbled, his posture slumping slightly as the punches stopped.

“Hey, Liam, look at me. Please,” Zayn pleaded, getting up from the bed and placing a gentle hand on Liam’s back. “You haven’t disappointed me. I care,” he whispered and rubbed his back gently as he noted Liam’s muscles had relaxed significantly.

Liam took in a loud ragged breath, his body feeling absolutely exhausted and his mind a fuzzy jumble of self loathing and longing for what Zayn said to be true. “You--you really mean that?” He asked, his voice sounding just about as broken as he felt.

“Yeah, I do.” Zayn answered simply, giving Liam’s side a gentle squeeze.

With that Liam turned around and flung himself at Zayn, sobbing softly into his shoulder. “There you go, let it all out. I’m here for you.” Zayn cooed, caressing Liam’s back in gentle circles.

They stayed like that for what seemed like ages until Liam pulled back to look Zayn in the eyes, his chocolate brown irises rimmed with red. “Thanks,” he managed to get out, their faces mere inches apart.

Zayn studied Liam’s bloodshot eyes, his heart breaking for the kindhearted man before him. He didn’t deserve to feel this way, not Liam. Liam was sweet and genuine, he deserved to be happy, to feel loved. Zayn on the other hand, he had been selfish in his life, done too many drugs, fucked up his future and broke his mum’s heart. He deserved to hate himself, to feel worthless, consumed by his own darkness. Then before he could stop himself he brought their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping that if only for a few moments he could make Liam feel just how special he truly was.

“No,” Liam mumbled against Zayn’s lips. “No, you can’t!” he carried on, pushing Zayn away from him. “You can’t do this to me. Not now--I’ve got a girlfriend. I--I’m in no state to deal with this. I can’t, we can’t--just get out!” he rattled on, plopping down on his bed and pulling his knees to his chest.

“Liam please, just--let’s talk about this,” Zayn said softly, sitting on the edge of Liam’s bed next to him, but still giving him ample space.

“N-no, go, you have to go,” Liam muttered, picking at the skin on his arms agitatedly. “I’ve done a bad thing. This isn’t good,” he stammered, his scratching growing consistently more frantic as he rocked back and forth.

“Just--please don’t hurt yourself. M’sorry, fuck I shouldn’t have done that.” Zayn cursed himself, already heading towards the door.

“I deserve it. I deserve to hurt, I hurt Dani, I hurt you, now I have to pay,” Liam murmured, his eyes wide and glazed over as his body shaking slightly.

“Jesus,” Zayn gasped, growing increasingly concerned for Liam’s safety. “I’m going to fetch Cher, you stay right here,” he called out as he sprinted out the door and toward the nurse’s station.

***

“Cher! Cher! Come quickly, Liam he’s bad. He’s really bad. I’m worried,” Zayn called out desperately as he rounded the corner, hoping that Cher hadn’t chosen that moment to pop out for a smoke.

Cher quickly scrambled up from her position behind the desk, frantically searching for Liam’s medication. “Okay, coming! He probably needs his PRNs. He’ll be okay, I promise,” she panted, tucking the syringe into her pocket and rushing to Liam’s room.

“Liam, it’s me Nurse Lloyd!" Cher called out in as sweet of tone as possible as she pushed Liam’s door open. “I’ve got something for you, love. It’ll make you feel better.” She added, trying to quickly assess the situation. Her eyes scanned Liam’s body, noting the deep red scratch marks on his arms and fresh blood on his fingertips.

“O-Okay. Y-yeah, yeah,” Liam uttered, looking up at Cher with empty eyes as he covered the scratches instinctively.

“Oh love, those look painful. Let’s get some medicine in ya, then I’ll fix those right up,” Cher cooed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling out the syringe. She cleaned a clean spot on his arm with an alcohol swab. “This will make it all go away, I promise,” she whispered, sticking the needle in Liam’s arm and injecting the medication carefully.  
Liam winced as the syringe pierced his skin, leaving a slight stinging sensation behind. He let his limbs go slack once Cher pulled the needle out, his head thumping against the wall.

“There you go, not so bad huh?” Cher hummed, receiving a non-committal head nod from Liam. “Now let’s get you patched up,” she added softly, pulling a first aid kit from the closet. “I’m going to use some alcohol wipes first, they may sting a little,” she warned as she pulled on her gloves.

“Fine,” Liam mumbled numbly, the medication beginning to flood his system making him feel a bit dizzy. “Ouch,” he muttered flatly as the cool alcohol pad rubbed against his raw arms.

“Sorry love, it will be over soon.” Cher sighed, tossing the pad in the bin and pulling out a tube of antibiotic ointment. She spread the clear gel over the scratches with a feather-light touch before wrapping each arm and in soft white gauze.

“Thanks,” Liam slurred, his eyelids growing heavy as the drugs slowed his thoughts, leaving him sluggish and more than a little drowsy. “Tell Zayn I’m sorry,” he added, mouth dry as he slid down into a laying position on his bed.

“I will, he was worried about you. He really does care,” Cher whispered, pulling the blankets up around Liam’s limp form. “You just get some rest, okay? I’ll be sending Marie round to check on you in ten minutes.” She smiled, brushing Liam’s hair back gently as he finally gave in and let the medication pull him under into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

“You should have seen him Ni, I think I broke him!” Zayn cried frantically as he paced the patio, a fag perched precariously in the corner of his mouth.

“Nah mate, Liam’s pretty sturdy. Doubt you broke him,” Niall observed, his eyes following Zayn as he bounced back and forth like a human ping-pong ball.

“But you weren’t there. He totally broke down, said he was pathetic then I kissed him and he went on about hurting Dani and me and how he had to pay. He was hurting himself. I just wanted to make him feel loved and I made him rip up his bloody arms,” Zayn rattled off, tugging at his hair frustratedly.

“You can’t fairly take the blame for all that Zee.” Niall said calmly from his perch atop the picnic table. “None of us come here without our baggage. Liam came here with the tendency to self-harm and a bitchy girlfriend to boot. He didn’t loose it because you kissed him; he lost it because that’s how he copes. Be it right or wrong that’s all he knows,” he added, proud of himself for finally putting all that “useless knowledge” he’d learned in his psychology course, in his two-month stint in uni, to good use.

“Maybe, but I suppose it was shit timing on my part, kissing him right after he got in a row with Dani,” Zayn muttered, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

Niall sighed heavily as Zayn continued to pace, exhausted just from watching him as little trails of light gray ash followed in his wake. “Well, hate to break it to ya mate but we’re on a locked psych ward. Not really sure there is a good time to kiss someone, we’re all on the verge of our next breakdown.” He laughed, trying to ease the tension a bit. It was sort of Niall’s thing, using humor to de-escalate emotionally charged situations.

Just then Cher stepped out onto the patio, her face fixed in a rare frown. It was unlike Nurse Lloyd to frown, as she was prone to a sunny disposition, the kind that was annoyingly endearing and hopelessly contagious. “God I need a smoke. They don’t pay me nearly enough for this.” She huffed as she plopped herself rather unceremoniously onto the picnic table.

“That bad?” Zayn asked, chewing on his lower lip nervously as he pulled a fag from behind his ear and handed it to Cher.

“Not too bad, nothing a few bandages and a little thorazine can’t cure. But something tells me it’s not just his body that took a beating. He looked so broken, so empty--”Cher trailed off looking out over the garden.

“See, told you. I broke him!” Zayn cringed, his stomach twisting in a tight knot as he looked over at Niall.

“No--oh no, he told me to tell you he was sorry. You didn’t break him and even in his drug-induced state he remembered you, that says something,” Cher got out quickly, not wanting Zayn to feel responsible.

“Yeah mate, just give him a day or two to let it settle. Then you can talk to him about it all.” Niall suggested with a small shrug, shifting so he was sitting behind Cher. “Wanna massage Cher? I hear I’m quite good at them,” he offered, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

She paused, considering his offer. “Sure but no funny business Horan, I have a professional reputation to uphold.” Cher chuckled, leaning back against Niall’s knees.

“Of course, nothing but professional. I learned when I played footie from the team trainer. She was super fit--I mean smart, she was smart.” Niall corrected massaging Cher’s shoulders gently.

“Oh for god’s sake, I’m headed back to my room for a kip. I’ve had enough dysfunctional relationships for one day,” Zayn grumbled, flicking his fag onto the ground and stomping it out with his slipper.

“Sure you wanna leave? I could do ya next?” Niall chuckled, wiggling his fingers at Zayn.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll leave you two to awkwardly flirt in private.” Zayn smirked as he slipped through the door back into the ward.

“So Cher, whadda ya say we get out of here?” Niall murmured smoothly once Zayn had gone.

Cher instantly pulled away, jumping off the bench into a standing position. “Watch it Horan, you’re really toeing the line!” she warned, waggling a finger at the Irishman gaping at her from the table.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just it’s been a long day, I think you deserve a little fun. I was thinkin’ maybe you could get me out of here, we could go into town.” he mumbled nervously, deciding to see how far he could push.

“Like a day pass? You know those don’t really exist? Not here,” Cher chuckled, shaking her head at Niall.

“Well then I suppose it could be our little secret. If I’m being honest, I could really just go for some chicken. The food here is killin me, I can feel my tastebuds slowly dying with each bowl of standard-issue gruel,” Niall complained, rubbing his stomach sadly.

“Will it get you to leave me be?” Cher asked curiously, deciding that she didn’t have much to lose.

“Yeah, just take me to Nandos and your wish is my command.” Niall nodded, his face lighting up at the idea that he may get his way.

“You know what, fuck it. Let’s do it. I’ve had a shit day and you seem alright. Let’s get out of this madhouse for an hour or so,” Cher caved, offering Niall a hand.

“Well Nurse Lloyd, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Niall crooned in his best film noir impression and hooked his arm around Cher’s. “You really are quite the dame,” he added, eliciting a loud snort from his very own leading lady.


	5. Before I Go Insane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long series of ridiculous encounters and terrible communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GOD IT HURTS MY HEART WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF?! xx  
> -musiclily

Cher and Niall walked out of Nando’s with a bag of food each, Niall feeling a great deal happier than he had in weeks. He understood that Cher was certainly violating at least three or seventeen hospital rules, and he was too grateful to express it in words. He didn’t even mind trailing behind her, waiting for her to issue gentle commands because she was actually being quite kind to him.

Plus she totally loved food as much as he did, so as far as he was concerned she was fit to be queen. Even if she had made him sit in the back of her car on the drive over just so he wouldn’t break everything in sight.

“I’m not exactly a whirling dervish, you know?”

“Sure. Wait here, though,” she said as they headed to the car. “I need to stick my bag in the boot and don’t want you trying to hotwire my car,” Cher added, giving Niall an accusatory glance.

“Kay.” 

Niall stood a ways away from the doors of the car, simultaneously trying to eat a chip and light a cigarette with a stubby match. A bag full of chicken and bread and potatoes dangled from his wrist, and he stuck the fag in the corner of his mouth. He was startled when a small grey squirrel jumped much too close to him, and he yelped despite himself, throwing the lit match away from him.

“What’s the matter?” Cher called, voice muffled from her position behind the car.

“Get away,” Niall muttered to the squirrel, trying to edge it away from him with his foot. He held the bag more aloft, refusing to relinquish his precious food to a damn furry animal.

“God, I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Cher asked, closing the boot with a thud. “What’s wrong?”

“This squirrel is attacking me for my dinner!” He turned to her with a pleading look on his face.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

“Hey, stop insulting me. I’m a mental patient. It’s rude to insult mental patients.” He felt a sudden heat at his back and he turned around slowly. “Oh shite.”

_“What did you do?”_ Cher bellowed, eyes wide at the billowing bright flames coming from the metal rubbish bin behind Niall.

“Run for it!”

***  
“What did you do?” Louis growled, throwing a crumpled newspaper down in front of Niall, who was sitting in the resident lounge looking despondent.

“I burnt down paradise, Lou.”

“You burnt down a Nando’s.”

“It was an accident. I burnt it right to the ground. I didn’t mean to, I swear it.” Niall sounded like he might burst into tears at any moment.

“How did you even manage that?”

“I don’t know!” Niall wailed, flinging his face onto his folded arms. “There was a squirrel and I was trying to smoke a cigarette and it wanted my food and then a bin was on fire!”

“They’re blaming it on vagrants, Niall. They say a hobo burnt down the only Nando’s for twenty miles. You have deprived this village of quality chicken.”

“I hate myself enough, Lou, I promise.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Niall. Pull yourself together.”

“I will never forgive myself.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. No one was hurt.”

“Yeah, we called 999 from across the road.”

“Good lad. Go talk to Cher. She looks miserable.”

_“She_ looks miserable? I’m miserable!”

“Yeah, but the whole thing was your fault, so. Go to the nurses’ station.” Louis pulled at Niall’s shoulder and tried to propel him away from the table. Then he sat down to watch, amusement bubbling up inside him.

Niall trudged over to the nurses’ station, head bowed. “Hey, Nurse Lloyd?”

“Yes, Niall?” she responded, voice cool.

He glanced around guiltily. “Erm, the thing is.”

“Can I help you with something in particular?”

“It’s just, well, we burnt down a chicken restaurant, so now we’re basically Bonnie and Clyde, aren’t we?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please go away for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“For how long, though?”

“Until my hair no longer reeks of smoke, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

Cher swallowed, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. “You are?”

“So, so sorry.”

“Good. You should be.”

“Are we okay?”

“I work here, Niall. I’m nothing if not endlessly professional with all of the residents, no matter how problematic they are.”

“I can tell.”

“We need to keep you away from fire from here on out, by the way,” Cher added in a low voice.

“But my cigarettes!”

“We’ll have to keep you on a one-to-one every time you want to smoke.”

“Does that mean you’ll have to keep me company every twenty minutes?”

“Who says I’m willing to do that?”

“I’ll give you cigarettes.”

“You’ll do that anyway.”

“What if I didn’t?”

“I’ll buy my own.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll bum them off Zayn, then.”

“Are you going to keep me company or not, Nurse Lloyd?”

“It’s _kind of_ in my job description, Niall.”

“I’ll see you after group, then.”

“You’ll see me when you see me, I suppose.”  
***  
“Hey. Harry?” Louis called from just outside the group room. “Was all that true?” He led them down the corridor and paused outside Harry’s door. Harry shouldered it open and invited Louis into his room with a vague wave.

Harry shrugged, planting himself casually into the chair beside his bed. “Yeah, course. And there’s more I don’t really remember, I suppose. It kind of blurred together after awhile.”

“You’ve really been hospitalized that many times, then?”

“You were really under the impression I wasn’t at least as fucked up as you, Lou?”

“Kind of,” Louis admitted, leaning against the wall across the room from Harry.

“Mental illness isn’t meant to be pretty, is it? So I’m definitely here for a reason.”

“I know that.”

“Dismissing my feelings isn’t going to get us anywhere good, is all.”

“I didn’t mean to dismiss your feelings. But I’m intently aware of mine lately, and I’d rather not force anyone to stagnate with me.” Louis rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen them slightly. Then he clenched and unclenched his fists twitchily. “I guess.”

“You think I’m much better off than you, and I just don’t get it.”

“I don’t want to play this—this competition. I don’t need to tell you that I tried to slit my wrists in the bath just to hear that you’ve jumped off a roof and broken both legs.”

Harry shook his head. “Arms, Louis. It was my arms.”

“Sure. I, I just couldn’t bear to get in the way of your progress, okay? It’s not fair to you.” Louis flicked his fringe out of his eyes.

“I can…sort of understand that. But I need you to take me seriously, okay? Take my feelings seriously.” Harry adjusted himself in his chair, pulling one leg up underneath himself.

“You do realize what I’ve been through, though. Why this is so _fucking_ hard for me?”

“I’d like it if you could eventually trust that I want the absolute best for you, whatever that happens to be.”

“Oh.”

“And fucking pardon me if I happen to think that I can help.”

“You can’t—” Louis’ voice broke slightly, and he shook his head. “You can’t just say shit like that. This isn’t some feel-good film, all right? The plucky hero isn’t going to be able to kiss my scars all better again. We aren’t necessarily going to win against all the odds, and the story’s not going to crescendo in some vibrant rock song that encapsulates our love. This is not a fucking fairy story I would read to my sisters, okay? You’re not going to kill my dragons for me.”

“I wasn’t going to try,” Harry responded, eyes bright with tears and voice gone syrup-slow with emotion. “It might—it might just be nice to go along with you while you play your own hero, you know.”

“Oh fuck,” Louis exhaled, trying to restrain a hysterical laugh. He was surely losing his mind. “Do you honestly not get why the fairytale metaphor felt apropos?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You are idiotically sweet and it’s starting to piss me off.” Louis pressed his shoulder blades against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.

“You’re an arsehole, Tommo. You realize this, right?”

“Do singing mice zip you into your trousers each morning?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m—look, I’m sorry. I make terrible jokes when I feel the desire to jump off a bridge.”

“So you always want to jump off a bridge, then?”

“Oi, I resent that. I have an interesting sense of humor.”

“I tell you that I really need you to take me seriously and you begin mocking me? I’d say not.”

“Hey. You deserve to know what I’m like. Best, worst, and in-between, all right?” Louis grinned once, hard and fast, not himself even knowing if he were joking.

“You treat me like a child all the time. And it’s fucking ridiculous.”

“What?”

“I’m not one of your sisters or some neighborhood kid you need to look after and feeling guilty over disappointing. I’m not looking at you to take care of me, all right?”

“You think I want to take care of you? I can’t even take care of myself! I can’t deal with any more pressure, Harry, honestly! I just can’t!” Louis crowed, crushing his face into his palm dejectedly.

“Notice how I didn’t ask you to?”

“I know. And, sure, say what you want about your own trials with mental illness, but riddle me this: maybe you’re so sure I’m not going to ruin you, but how am I to know you’re not going to ruin me?”

“What?”

“How am I to know you’re not going to make _me_ worse, eh?”

Harry blinked at him. “I know you think you’re being clever, but you’re not. So cut it out.”

“What, thinking that you being manic and me being depressed as hell is not the good way to start a relationship? That’s not a clever deduction?”

“Get the fuck over yourself, please. It’s about time.”

Louis gaped at him, mouth opening and closing helplessly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Good. It’s also about time you stopped talking and actually listened to what I’m saying. All right? I’m not looking to fix you or fuck you up. I’m not looking for a hero or a martyr or a god to worship. I just want you to know that I love you. And I want you to accept it.”

Louis’ jaw worked silently as he sat on the floor, back still pressed to the wall. Harry stood and exited the room, pulling the door shut quietly.

***  
Harry was flighty. He knew this about himself. He knew he was impulsive and stupid, and he knew that he loved as though he could never die. He knew his faults, and he had catalogued them meticulously.

Rarely had he had them thrown back in his face the way Louis seemed to do to him recently. Rarely had he seen someone he liked—someone he cared about—trying to thrust arrows into _him_ thinking it would somehow help. Louis seemed simultaneously intent on hurting Harry’s feelings to keep him away and hurting himself to keep Harry away, out of some misguided attempt to let them both heal.

Clearly, Louis was an idiot.

Harry knew from the start that Louis hated himself, as Louis made few qualms about showing it. He knew that Louis regularly shoved that hatred outward, not out of a desire to hurt others, necessarily, but to force others to distance themselves from _him,_ as he felt he deserved no friends or confidants.

So Harry knew that Louis was an idiot. But he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that Louis thought that he, too, was an idiot. Louis clearly thought that Harry could not be trusted to make decisions or be kind to someone. He thought that Harry was not even capable of being someone’s friend.

Harry was certainly capable of being flighty, yes. But he was also capable of endless affection and genuine emotion that had nothing to do with mental illness, mood swings, drug interactions, or hormones. Harry believed himself to be a human being, first and foremost. He did not characterize himself according to a set of pathological actions and desires, though it seemed that Louis did. Apparently hospitalization required one to don a label.

Harry was coming to realize that Louis indeed believed that the One Disorder plus Another Disorder equaled Unmitigated Disaster.

Harry was startled by how much this upset him, not simply because he was used to getting what he wanted. Sure, his smiles and charms often got him the things he desired, but he was similarly not stranger to hard work when warranted. But he was unused to someone having an entirely wrong picture of him as a person: a fundamentally and categorically false image of him. And it made him livid.

And, because he was a person and not just a fucking diagnosis, Harry grieved this betrayal in what he was sure Louis would deem an atypical manner: he got quiet, polite, and very, very brittle.

***

Nick found Louis an hour later, slumped into a seated position on Harry’s floor. He ambled further into the room and rolled his eyes at Louis’ hunched-over posture.

“Oh mate,” he drawled, plopping himself down into the chair across the room.

“What did I do?” Louis asked miserably, raking his hands through his hair.

“You don’t even know, do you? Shit, you two are bad at communicating.” Nick crossed one of his long, thin legs over the other, looking strangely dapper in what amounted to a pair of colorful trackie bottoms, a ratty t-shirt, and slippers.

“Tell me. Please.”

“I’m only going to tell you because I have no idea how you two keep fucking this up. Okay? But you owe me.”

“Okay. Yes. I’ll do anything.” Louis paused, raising his head to may eye contact with Nick. “Anything except sex you up, because that would be counterproductive at this point. But yes, anything else.”

Nick held up one finger. “First of all, quick it with the smartass routine, because he’s under the impression you’re making fun of him.”

“Oh.”

“Second of all, stop vacillating between thinking he’s either a stupid baby or a manic fucktoy.” Nick turned his hand around and raised a second finger, flipping Louis the V with a small smile.

“I never said—”

“Doesn’t matter if you said it. You two are communicating via miscommunication, and it’s getting obnoxious. He’s nonetheless under the impression that you consider him a sex-crazed lunatic with the self-control and intellectual capacity of a child.”

“Ah.”

“When we all know I’m the resident sex-crazed lunatic.” Nick shrugged his shoulders, looking proud of himself.

“Hey, why do you get to be quippy?” Louis unbent his legs, stretching them out before him and shooting a glare at Nick.

“Because I’m the one who’s actually right about anything. At all, all along. Now shut up and let me teach you something.”

“Sorry.”

“Thirdly. Besides those other two things, he said you see him as nothing but a walking diagnosis.” Nick waggled three fingers triumphantly.

_“What.”_

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll clarify. Something you said to him has him convinced that you see him as nothing but a two-dimensional figure of Bipolar I Disorder, and that has made him a bit tetchy.”

“I didn’t say that! I wouldn’t say that to him.”

“I expect you’re too busy moaning about how you’re a walking ball of depression to say much else. Mm?” Nick stood up, moving closer to Louis and leaning down slightly. “And if you see yourself as nothing but a ball of diagnoses and fucked-up symptomatology, well, it’s kind of insulting to those around you going through the same shit, isn’t it?”

“I’ve told him he’s better off than me, okay? So why would he think I think that of him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because he thinks he’s even worse off than you.”

“He’s not.”

“It doesn’t matter, mate. He still thinks you can’t manage to see him as anything resembling an actual human person with real strengths and faults. Not just symptoms from whatever version of the ICD they’re using this year.”

“I think we’re on the tenth edition,” Louis whispered, folding his hands in his lap.

“You’re such a mental case, I swear.”

“Hey!”

“Look, you can’t logic your way out of this. You just need to sit down and actually talk like you give a shit. And you should probably also pay attention to what you’re saying versus what he thinks you’re saying. And what you think you’re saying.”

“Why are you doing this, anyway?”

“I’m racking up karma points to see if I can trade them in for a get-out-of-jail-free card. Also I’m sick of seeing him cry.”

“I’m well aware that you hate me, you know.”

“Yeah, well. Hatred isn’t everything. And someone needed to look after you. You’re like overgrown ten-year-olds fixated on pulling each others’ braids during recess. It’s disgusting.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“Shut up, fuckwit. I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m thanking you.”  
***  
“I’d prefer not to talk right now,” Harry stated from his prone position on Nick’s bed. He stared blankly at the ceiling and gritted his teeth.

“Oh,” Louis said. He glanced up at Liam, who was organizing his side of the room in a slow, shuffling manner. Louis thought he was essentially moving his toiletries from one side of the dresser to another, but felt weird commenting on it. “All right, Liam?”

Louis saw his spine stiffen slightly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Um. I’ll just leave you two be for the time being, then.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes.

“Can we talk later though, please?”

“Sure. If you like.” Harry bent his arms and placed them behind his head.

“Please, Harry.” Louis rubbed the back of his neck, feeling all raw edges and brightly lit nerves. This, just like everything else, was going horribly wrong.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I just need to think for a little while.”

***  
“Hello, Mr. Tomlinson. Come on in, please.” She stood in the center of the room and shook his handle gently before sitting down. “Shut the door behind you.”

“You’re Dr. um, Teasdale?” Louis entered the small office, closing the door quietly. He surveyed the woman in front of him. She had wavy bleached hair that looked almost silver in the fluorescent light. She had a vaguely unprofessional air about her, sitting relaxed against the back of a striped wingchair.

“Yep, that’s me. Please, sit wherever you’d like. We’re just going to have a short intro meet today, nothing to rip your hair out over.”

“Um. Are you sure you’re a real doctor?” He slid onto a low leather sofa across from Dr. Teasdale.

She chuckled lightly. “I am. I’m consulting here at Shady Pines. I’m an EMDR specialist.”

Louis nodded as though he understood exactly what that meant. “Oh.”

“I’ll explain the process today, of course, and we won’t actually start until our next meeting. Not to worry,” she assured him. “Essentially this therapeutic technique helps process early painful emotions that have been deeply ingrained in your psyche.” She pointed a finger to the center of her chest above her sternum. Louis wondered if it was okay that she was wearing a sleeveless tank top and jeans.

“Right.”

“So the first step is to identify some instances that have fed into this deep-seated image of yourself, if that makes sense. Perhaps early interactions with others that led you to believe negative things about yourself.”

Louis nodded, wary.

“Then we’ll address the emotions and self-images this experience brings out in you, allowing space for whatever arises in the moment. After this process, we’ll set up the EMDR machine.” She pointed to a spot next to the couch, where Louis saw a tripod that held a long rectangular strip of plastic. Off it hung a set of headphones and a small tangle of wires that Louis found concerning.

“Ah.”

“It doesn’t hurt. Or attach with electrodes or anything. It’s a light and some headphones and two finger-pads. The pads vibrate gently while the headphones play gentle beeping noises and a light moves back and forth on this long screen.” She pointed to the rectangular piece of plastic.

“Are—are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“Not at all. Here, let’s give it a try so we can ease your mind.” Dr. Teasdale stood up and set the tripod carefully between Louis’ feet, centering its screen in front of his face. She handed him the headphones, which he stuck on promptly, and then rested the finger-pads on his thumbs. “Rest those between your thumb-pads and any part of your pointer finger. There you go.”

Louis clutched the small pads, raising a brow the doctor. She held a small remote control aloft and gave him a triumphant glance. “Right. Okay, so this is the sound it will make.” She pressed a button and Louis heard a faint beeping noise that seemed to travel from his left to his right and then back again.

“Okay?” he said, nodding. “I can handle that.”

“Great! And the vibrations don’t get any more intense than this,” she stated next, turning off the noises and turning on the pads. They buzzed gently in his hands, the sensations also moving from right to left and then back again. “Easy enough, right?”

Louis murmured his agreement.

“This just emits a small light that travels from one side to the other, and I’ll eventually ask you to follow it with your eyes, rather than moving your head.” She pushed another series of buttons on the remote and the plastic rectangle emitted a gentle green light. “Make sense?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “But—what’s it do, exactly?”

“EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Essentially our goal here is to allow you to process hurtful negative memories, like? Which helps lessen the negative effect so they can be appropriately incorporated into your self-image. In a less negative way, of course. To create adaptive coping mechanisms and the like. It’s a lot easier to explain when in action, but that’s the gist of it.”

“What, and this works?”

“It does indeed. Usually used for individuals with anxiety and PTSD, but it’s really quite helpful for people with all sorts of issues they’d like to tackle.”

“And we’re—just meant to jump into this next session?”

“Well, sure. Between now and then I’d like you to come up with a few situations we might use as a jumping-off point. While I do have some of Dr. Flack’s notes, I’d really like for you to come up with some situations on your own.”

“Right, you want me to bring in traumatic stories from my childhood, note how they relate to my self-loathing and depression, and then talk about them while staring at the pretty, pretty lights?”

“Got it in one.” Dr. Teasdale brought her thumb and pointer finger together, leaving her other three fingers upright, making the _okay_ gesture at him.

“And I’m just supposed to be all right with opening up to you, just like that.”

“Of course not. Ask or tell me anything you’d like. That’s what my visits are for.”

“Um. How long have you been working as a doctor?”

“Seven years. I went back to school after my daughter was born. I’m part private practice and part consulting. I do testing and therapy, mostly EMDR therapy.”

“Okay. That makes sense. Do you have a specialty focus? Besides EMDR?”

“I often work with people who are experiencing grief, adults with depression, and transgender individuals looking to transition.”

“I’m gay.”

“Okay,” she replied, nodding.

“Why are you a doctor on the men’s unit? Not the women’s unit?”

“I’m a doctor on the women’s unit too, actually.”

“Does this place have a genderqueer unit?”

“No, as a matter of fact. I’ve spoken to Dr. Hubbard about that—about having a unit for those not comfortable on either of the given units here. He’s taken it under advisement.” She rolled her eyes at him conspiratorially.

“That’s—that’s something, at least.”

“Absolutely.” She sat silently, crossing one leg over the other as she waited for Louis to speak again. Louis decided he liked that—he liked that she didn’t immediately jump into another line of questioning, instead letting him speak in his own time. Not that he was particularly reticent on a good day, but he appreciated having time to think. Time to maybe let his guard down.

“Did they—why did they give up on me? And move me to you?” Louis knew, just _knew_ he looked pathetic and plaintive, but he was unable to keep the emotion out of his voice when he spoke.

“Oh!” Dr. Teasdale sounded genuinely surprised. “No, that’s not it at all. This is a mark of progress, Louis. EMDR can be a difficult process, to put it mildly, and it can only be conducted with individuals who aren’t likely to decompensate. We need you to be stable enough to process trauma without losing yourself, if that makes sense. This is a good thing.”

“It is?” Louis murmured, gripping his knee with one hand.

“Yes, most definitely. You’re not terminating with Dr. Flack yet. She will most certainly alert you before that happens. I’m so sorry this hasn’t been properly communicated to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Dr. T.” Louis pursed his lips. “Can I—”

“Of course you can.” She gave him an indulgent smile that did not look particularly patronizing.

“So this is good?” His voice was tinged in hope—hope that he had not dared feel for at least two months now. He swallowed a shaky breath.

“Are you surprised to be making progress, Louis?”

“Ah, a bit.”

“I see. Any recent suicidal ideation? Self-injurious behavior? Vegetative symptoms?”

“Nothing much. No.”

Dr. T smiled. “And that’s not encouraging? Your file indicated you were transported here directly from an inpatient facility, where you’d had difficulty maintaining even basic daily functioning. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Well I’m not saying we can’t make a great deal more progress, because we certainly can, but you’re doing mighty fine, Louis. You really are.”  
***  
Louis shut the door to Dr. Teasdale’s office quietly after letting himself out. He stood contemplatively for an unnecessarily long time, staring into the middle distance as he tried to decide where to go next.

“A’right, mate?” Niall drawled from down the corridor, startling Louis out of his reverie.

“Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“You look like your head’s a bit in the clouds.”

“Yeah, maybe. Have you seen Harry?”

“Sorry, not recently.”

Louis nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. Then he considered Niall. “You look happy.”

Niall shrugged. “Cher said she forgave me and she sat with me while I smoked. So basically we’re in love, right?”

“Um. Right, yeah, that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re joking, but like. I like her a lot, right. So I need your advice.”

“I’m terrible at advice, you know.”

“I know.”

“Right. Can the advice wait for, like, an hour?”

“I guess.”

“Great.” 

Louis turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, a clear intention on his mind. His determination dulled once he found that Harry was not in his own room nor was he in Nick’s room. He bit his lip and made a pit stop to his own room to grab a cardigan, hoping to look at least slightly put-together.

He stopped short when he realized Harry was lying on his bed. “How’sit?”

“Fine.”

“You seem tired today.” Louis bit his lip.

“Tired most days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re in my bed, you know,” Louis said next, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Louis collapsed onto the mattress, nuzzling his nose into Harry’s neck. “I’m glad.” Harry snaked his arm around Louis’ shoulder and pulled him in closer. “You really think we’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I do.”


	6. Hello Darkness, my Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens...dun dun dun  
> I apologize in advance.  
> Not really this is way too much fun! Hope you all enjoy! xx  
> -sweet_disposition

Liam isn’t even sure what day it is anymore. Not that it even matters, ever since Dani walked out the door it was like life was one constant blur. He wasn’t sure what was in the syringe Nurse Lloyd gave him, but he wanted more. He felt--well he felt nothing, and numb is what he needed to be right now.

He was working on rearranging his toiletries for the 10th time today, which he would know because even the strongest drugs couldn’t stop his compulsion to count everything. He was in the midst of moving his deodorant ever so slightly to the left when the door clicked shut.

“What are you doing mate?” Nick asked softly, knitting his eyebrows in concern. “You’ve moved those at least 15 times already,” He added as he sat down on the edge of Liam’s bed.

“Ten actually,” Liam replied in a mere whisper.

“Come here, those toiletries aren’t going anywhere,” Nick murmured and patted the spot next to him on the bed for Liam.

“What day is it?” Liam asked flatly as he slumped down onto the bed, his shoulders hunched over dejectedly.

“It’s Tuesday mate. You’ve been like this since Sunday,” Nick sighed, patting Liam’s leg sympathetically. “Got you on some major antipsychotics, they’ll knock you right out. They used to give Harry the injections, made him a right zombie. Poor lad, “ He added with a small frown.

“I kind of like it actually,” Liam admitted with a vacant expression. “It’s not so bad--being numb.” He trailed off, his gazed fixed somewhere in the distance at the bland beige wall.

“Listen, I know you’re having a rough go right now. Your girlfriend really put you through a lot and I know it hurts. It hurts like hell. It happens to most of us that end up here.” Nick began, looking over at Liam, a mixture of sympathy and fondness in his eyes. “We make mistakes, we break down, we bet away our life's savings--we become the cause of our own destruction and our loved ones watch us wither away. But it’s really a damned if you do, damned if you don’t. You’re shit if you don’t try to get better and you’re shit if you end up here because you can’t be there for them.” He carried on, with a heavy sigh.

“Is this supposed to help?” Liam huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“See the thing is Liam, when it comes to feeling--you take the bad so you can have the good. It’s not all bad. If you go numb, sure you won’t feel like shit. But you’ll also never know what it’s like to be truly happy, to be in love--”Nick trailed off, taking a moment to compose himself. “The thing is Liam, to understand happiness we have to be sad sometimes. To understand love, we have to get our hearts broken. It’s the way of the world mate and if you go numb you’ll miss out on all of that.” He finished, swallowing thickly, allowing a comfortable silence to settle between them.

Liam inhaled deeply, the stale hospital air swirling in his lungs, and a dull aching returning in his chest. “It’s not fair.” He finally said, running his fingers over the bandages on his arms. “I don’t want to be like this.” He grumbled, his jaw clenching in frustration.

“Then don’t.” Nick replied quietly and pulled Liam into a tight hug. “It’s a diagnosis, not a life sentence, you know that right?” He added, cuddling Liam close to his chest.

“Thanks.” Liam whispered, melting into Nick’s hold--and for the first time since he’d  
come to Shady Pines he cried.

***

Zayn sat alone in the lounge; cup of coffee perched on the edge of the table and a tattered book in hand. He had read the same page about twenty times at this point and he still had no idea what it said. He was too aware of how silent it was, how empty the lounge felt with Liam’s meditation cushion abandoned in a corner. He missed the quiet shuffling of Liam’s feet and the way his steady breaths created a sort of memorizing rhythm. He missed Liam, everything about him, from the way he furrowed his eyebrows adorably while trying to find the most zen seating position to the way he’d crack his eyes open subtly (or so he thought) to watch Zayn read.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He muttered to himself and dropped the book on the table with a resounding thud. Once again he’d managed to fuck things up with someone who could have truly cared about him because he was selfish. Stupid, selfish Zayn, always thinking of what he wanted, what he needed, what made him happy. Kissing Liam was equivalent to one of his stupid coke binges, fueled by his own desires and a total lack of impulse control.

He picked at the frayed strings of fabric protruding from the offensively floral loveseat with a determined look on his face. Liam needed a friend, someone to listen, not some idiot to suck his face and confuse him even more.

“Easy there. That’s a classic you know.” Niall laughed from behind the loveseat.

“I’m really doing it a favor if you ask me. Not even my nan would dare to buy furniture with such a putrid pattern.” Zayn muttered, with a small chuckle.

“Well what do ya expect Zayner, this isn’t exactly the Ritz is it?” Niall teased, walking round to sit next to Zayn.

“Suppose not.” Zayn mused, popping the p for extra emphasis. “Burn down anymore chicken restaurants lately?” He added with a mischievous smirk.

“That was one time and m’fairly certain I’m still recovering from a bad case of Nando’s related TBSG.” Niall groaned, burying his face against a worn out cushion.

“Are you serious mate?” Zayn barked, slugging Niall on the shoulder. “Its PTSD you twat. It stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” He chuckled loudly, his first real laugh since the kiss. It was the kind that came all the way from your toes and landed in your tear ducts. “What the fuck would TBSG stand for?” He snorted, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper.

“The fuck if I know. It’s all Greek to me.” Niall retorted before giving in and giggling alongside Zayn, glad to see him smiling again.

“You really gotta work on your knowledge of psychiatric disorders of you want to impress the resident nurse.” Zayn panted, still working to catch his breath, and wow he really needed to cut down on his smoking because he didn’t remember his lung capacity being that poor.

“Nah, once she get’s a load of my lucky charms she’ll be erin go braless.” Niall replied with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh my god, that’s disgusting even for you mate.” Zayn coughed, hitting Niall with one of the throw pillows, stirring up dust into the air.

“No, that is disgusting!” Niall huffed, pointing to the shower of dust particles dancing in the late morning sunlight.

“Vile conditions they keep us in! We should write a letter to the queen!” Zayn joked, and pretended to pull out a piece of paper. “To her royal highness, I am writing to you on behalf of the retched living conditions at Shady Pines. The furniture is not only hazardous to ones health but also the eyes--”He dictated, a wide smile spreading on his face.

“Don’t forget to mention the food is bland as fuck!” Niall laughed and hook an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “But the staff, well the nurses are fit so can’t complain there.” He added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Jesus Christ, you really are after Cher. You really think you can get her to shag you?” Zayn asked curiously.

“Mr. Horan, will be lucky if I even let him near a piece of chicken again, let alone my knickers. “ Cher announced as she rounded the corner.

“Oh sorry Chez. Didn’t know you were there love.” Zayn apologized, batting his eyes at Cher. “If I give you a fag will you pretend you never heard this conversation?” He tried, batting his long lashes at Cher.

“What conversation?” Cher replied cheekily and gave Zayn a wink. “Smoker’s patio then?” She grinned, wringing her hands excitedly.

“Yeah. Come on.” Zayn nodded, standing up and leaving a very pink cheeked Niall sitting on the thread bare sofa.

“You coming Ni?” Cher asked curiously.

“Did you just call me Ni? You’ve already given me a pet name.” Niall cheered and jumped up to follow them to the patio.

“Yeah, yeah, but don’t get too used to it. I’m still afraid you might light my hair on fire.” Cher teased, bumping her hip against Niall’s before they disappeared out the door.

***

Three, that’s how many days it took after Nick’s “intervention” for Liam to finally cave. He had tried ignoring the silence, spending his mornings laid up in bed and counting the ceiling tiles--there were 85 in their room, not that anyone cared. But the problem was Liam did care. It drove him mental that it was an odd number which lead him to spend the next hour rearranging his toiletries, first by size, then by color, and finally by the order in which he used them.

He knew he was backsliding, falling back in to his old rituals and obsessions, and it scared him. When Zayn was around he could focus his need to count on more noble pursuits, like counting the lashes that hooded Zayn’s rich amber eyes or the number of times he inhaled smoothly before turning a page.

“Fuck.” He groaned and shoved all his toiletries off the top of his dresser, sending shampoo bottles and deodorant skittering across the tile floor. “Fucking hell.” He cursed, picking up each of the containers and rearranging them artfully, because he had zero control at this point.

“Well good morning to you too.” Nick mumbled groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in bed.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Liam apologized, his hands trembling as he tried desperately to restrain himself from moving the mouthwash two centimeters to the left.

“Take it you haven’t talked to him yet.” Nick sighed heavily and shook his head at Liam.

“No, I-I think I’ll go later.” Liam shrugged, his muscles twitching as stared at the slightly askew Listerine bottle.

“What? Because you’re too busy rearranging your colony of bathroom supplies for what, the 10th time?” Nick grimaced with a small yawn.

“12th.” Liam corrected with wince. “Fuck, you’re right. I can’t do this--I’ll go.” He conceded, sliding his slippers on and pushing his way out the door.

***

Zayn didn’t go to the lounge in the morning anymore. What used to be his favorite place had now become an unwanted reminder of how Liam wasn’t there, a constant guilty knot pulling at his insides, reminding him that once again his selfish needs had fucked up yet another relationship. He had taken to reading his book in bed, laying there in silence with only Louis’ soft even breaths as company. He was just about to turn the page when the door opened with a soft click.

“Zayn?” A familiar voice cut through the quiet, causing him to wonder if he had begun to hallucinate. Honestly he wouldn’t be entirely surprised, it seemed par for the course given his life recently. “Zayn, it’s me.” The voice sounded again, this time a bit louder. That’s it Zayn thought, I’ve lost my entire fucking mind. He set his book down with a soft thud and scrubbed at his eyes frustratedly. However, when he opened his eyes again he was met by Liam’s face poking around the door frame, yes he was definitely psychotic.

“Liam?” He called out, hoping that there was the slightest chance that he wasn’t in fact hallucinating out of guilt or some weird shit like that. That was possible right? He’d have to ask Dr. Flack next session.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Liam whispered, noticing that Louis was still sleeping. “Can we talk?” He asked, stepping inside the door.

Zayn let out a sigh of relief as Liam stepped into the room, his full body coming into view and confirming he wasn’t hallucinating, unless full body apparitions were a thing. “Yeah, I can do that.” He nodded and slipped out of bed, pulling on a jumper and his slippers.

“I was thinking the garden might be nice.” Liam suggested, his hand tucked nervously into the pockets of his joggers.

“Sounds great. I’m dying for a smoke.” Zayn smiled, tucking a fag behind his ear as he shoved a lighter in his pocket.

***

The garden was empty this time of the morning, a silvery frost coating the blades of grass giving the lawn a sort of glimmer. “It’s actually quite pretty out here.” Liam noted, trying to ignore the almost palpable tension between them.

“Not so bad for a mad house.” Zayn chuckled sardonically and struggled to light his fag with nicotine withdrawn shaky hands.

“I’m sorry.” Liam blurted out, chewing on his lip nervously as held the lighter steady for Zayn. He watched, slightly mesmerized as the smoke curled out from between Zayn’s lips in small wisps. He never found smoking attractive before, but Zayn seemed to have a way of making everything look effortlessly sexy. “I’m sorry I freaked out.” He clarified, hoping Zayn understood.

“It’s okay, you’ve got a lot going on.” Zayn shrugged, taking the lighter back and sticking the fag back between his lips. “I should be the one saying I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He mumbled around the lit cigarette. “It was a selfish thing for me to do, I didn’t even consider if you’d like it or not.” He rambled on, shutting himself up by taking a long drag, the acrid smoke easing his nerves.

“What if I said I liked it?” Liam replied impulsively, knowing that he can’t and he shouldn’t get involved with Zayn but at the same time shamelessly wishing he were that fag perched between Zayn’s lips. “What would you say then?” He challenged, his built up loneliness getting the better of him.

“Did you?” Zayn blinked, a bit wide eyed by Liam’s sudden confession.

“Yeah--I did, a lot more than I should have if I’m being honest.” Liam muttered as nonchalantly as possible, trying to play it off as if it wasn’t as big of a deal as it should be. Sure Dani had been miserable to him lately, but he had made a commitment to her. They had had lasted three years thus far and he was pretty sure that kissing Zayn counted as cheating, especially if he enjoyed it. Liam never saw himself as the one to cheat, he was loyal and he liked monogamy but then Zayn had to come in with his stupid model face and effortless charm, ruining it all.

“Liam--I dunno what to say? You have a girlfriend, a horrible one but stillâ€¦where does this leave us? If there even is an us.” Zayn muttered, tossing his fag on the ground and stomping it out with a slipper.

“Uh--I, well that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. I think I want you, but yet there’s Dani and I’m so fucking confused.” Liam blurted out, wishing he could sort his feelings out. Maybe if he wasn’t such a mess he could, he could be less of a disappointment, be what Zayn needed. But for now he’d only complicate things, he couldn’t bring Zayn down the way he had done to Dani.

“Liam, hey it’s okay! I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. You’re here to heal and that should come first. I just wanna know if we can go back to how we were. I miss you, it’s too fucking quiet without you.” Zayn huffed, his breath smelling like cigarettes and mixing with the brisk morning air.

“I know, I’ve taken to rearranging my toiletries compulsively. It’s driving Nick mental.” Liam laughed, trying to make light of the situation. “I miss sitting in the lounge with you,” he admitted with slumped shoulders.

“I miss having you in the lounge, haven’t been able to stand it lately.” Zayn sighed reaching down to grab hold of Liam’s hand hesitantly.

“How about we just let things progress as they will and talk about it later, after we’ve had some time to think.” Liam settled vaguely and grabbed a hold of Zayn’s hand, giving him a small smile.

“Alright--I think I can do that.” Zayn agreed and squeezed Liam’s hand gently as he looked off into the distance at a petite woman sitting on a bench. She was small with cotton candy pink hair and had a sketch pad balanced on her thin legs. “Perrie?” He gasped, squinting his eyes as if he wasn’t seeing properly.

“Zee? Is that you?” The woman called back, standing up from the bench and striding toward Liam and Zayn as fast as her short legs would allow.

“Who is that?” Liam inquired, trying to piece together what was going on. Scanning his memory for anyone named Perrie and that’s when it hit him. Perrie as in, Zayn’s model-ex girlfriend-that dumped him for sobriety-Perrie. “Oh.” He breathed rather disappointed and let go of Zayn’s hand.

“Pezza! What are you doing here?” Zayn chuckled as Perrie pulled him into what looked like a crushing hug.

“Same as you, getting sober.” She said with tinkling giggle, and wow Liam was already jealous. “Modest gave me an ultimatum, get clean or lose all my ad campaigns in the fall. I just landed a massive one with Topshop and they threatened to give it to Danielle if I didn’t pull through. A dancer, I almost lost a gig to dancer. So here I am.” Perrie explained with a loud exhale.

“Danielle, that’s not--”Zayn trailed off, raising his eyebrows at Liam.

Liam wanted to scream, because of course, of course this would happen to him. As if sorting through his feelings weren’t enough of a complication, now there was Perrie and she knew Dani and--fuck his life was a tangled mess. “Yeah it is.” He confirmed through gritted teeth.

“No way, it’s you! You’re that bloke Dani used to date. I remember now, she’d drag you along to parties and you’d stand against the walls and watch like a proper creep.” Perrie chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. “No worries mate, you’re totally better off without her.” She added with a sympathetic smile.

“Used to, better off without--I’m still with her.” Liam sputtered, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Shit, oh I didn’t know. Just when I saw her three weeks ago she told me she was shagging Andy and I thought that--”Perrie started but was cut off by Zayn giving her a pleading glance.

“Pez, that’s enough.” Zayn warned, looking over at Liam concernedly.

“Andy? She’s shagging Andy? How could she! He’s my best mate. I’m in a fucking mad house and she’s fucking my best fucking mate. Probably in my bed too no doubt.” Liam shouted, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“Liam I’m so sorry--I thought you k-”Perrie tried to get out but it was too late as Liam was already stomping off toward the hospital, determined to be anywhere but between Zayn and Perrie.

“Fuck, that was unexpected.” Zayn gaped, watching Liam walk away.

“Aren’t you going after him? I saw you holding his hand, are you uh--a thing?” Perrie inquired, not sure if she wanted to bother with keeping up with everything.

“I dunno--I think it’s better to let him be right now. Give him some time.” Zayn fumbled and sunk down to the bench. “If you’re not busy, we could talk.” He sighed and looked up at Perrie.

“Yeah, I could do that.” She smiled and sat down next him.

***

Liam was furious, it was bad enough when Dani called him pathetic, he tolerated it when she kicked him to the curb but he had to draw the line somewhere and he was pretty sure this was it. Fucking his best mate was a low blow, even for her.

He shoved the door to his room open and glanced around, glad to see that Nick wasn’t there. He let the door shut behind him with a slam that was sure to reverberate down the empty corridors. He felt the nervous bugs begin to crawl under his skin. He needed to do something, needed to cleanse himself of the deep seated betrayal that bubbled underneath everything, threatening to leave him open and vulnerable, exposed for the world to see how pathetic he truly was.

The itch spread to his scalp and god Liam wanted to scratch. He wanted to claw at the raw marks on his arms that he had made not that long ago. He wanted to bleed himself dry of every uncomfortable emotion. But he couldn’t do that, he was trying to change, he was trying so damn hard. He wouldn’t let someone like Danielle derail weeks worth of progress.

A small razor lay out on his dresser, a dull one they had given him for shaving. Liam picked it up and turned it over it in his hands. His entire body urged him on, a chorus of, â€˜do it, you know you want to’ echoing in his head. His hand trembled as lifted the razor up, he took in a deep breath and then he did it. He shaved his head.

***

“Still can’t believe you ended up here.” Zayn mused, shrugging off his jumper as the late morning sun warmed his skin.

“I know me either, sort of poetic justice I suppose, after I dumped you for wanting to get sober.” Perrie laughed bitterly as she finished the sketch of Zayn’s profile she had started earlier.

“It’s not so bad once you get used it.” Zayn admitted and tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck, which had gone stiff from posing.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. I broke up with you because you getting sober meant me having to admit that I had a problem. Admitting that cocaine is a problem terrifies me.” Perrie shivered, tucking her knees to her chest as she set her sketchbook aside. “Cocaine has been my best friend for years. It’s been there for me when no one else was. It got me through a shit home life where I was ignored most of the time. Then, when I was told I was too pudgy to model, coke helped me lose those last four pounds, plus a stone more.” She drawled on as if she were talking about an old school mate.

“True, but Pezza, think about all the fucked up shit we did while stoned. We robbed a liquor store, rather clumsily but still. That’s not good.” Zayn groaned and shook his head.

“Yeah, that was pretty terrible. It’s just, you’ve got things to look forward to after this Zayn. You’ve got people like Liam and your mum that care about you. I’ve got no one.” Perrie sniffed, trying hard not to get emotional.

“You’ve got me.” Zayn interjected, grabbing a hold of Perrie’s hand and stroking the back of it lightly with his thumb.

“Do I though?” Perrie mumbled skeptically and leaned forward to peck Zayn’s cheek.

“Maybe, if you get clean then yeah.” Zayn nodded hopefully and bumped their noses together. Shocked at how easily he was falling back into this, as if he and Perrie had never broken up.

“I have to go Zee, I’ve got group in fifteen minutes. I’ll think about it okay?” Perrie said softly as she pulled away. “See you later Zayn.” She sighed and got up and walked away leaving Zayn confused and holding her sketchbook on the bench.

***

Zayn spent the rest of the morning making mental checklists of Liam versus Perrie, finding himself hopelessly deadlocked and far from making any sort of decision. He looked up at the clock and realized it was nearly time for lunch. He hoped that Louis could maybe offer some insight into his dilemma.

Louis had been strangely absent lately, choosing to spend most of his time away from their room. Not that he was complaining, it was nice to Louis getting out. As much as he loved the lad he wanted to him to get better and leaving his bed for longer than 4 hours at time was a good sign.

“Where’s Liam?” Zayn asked as he sat down at lunch table between Niall and Louis, who had Harry perched on his lap.

“Didn’t you hear?” Harry said excitedly as if he was proud to have a tid bit of gossip Zayn hadn’t heard yet.

“He’s with Dr. Flack, went full on Britney Spears circa 2007 this morning after he came back from his walk with you.” Niall said in a hushed tone.

“Britney Spears, what? What the bloody hell are you on about?” Zayn fumbled abashedly and narrowed his eyes.

“Honestly, your lack of pop culture knowledge is quite disappointing Malik. We're you really that stoned through all of the early 2000's?” Louis tutted and shook his head at his roommate. “He shaved his head mate. Like full on with a razor.” He explained and mimed shaving his own head for emphasis.

“Uh yeah mate, cocaine addiction! Remember? And no, no he didn’t!” Zayn griped, refusing to believe that he had let Liam down in yet another time of need.

“He did.” Liam mumbled, sitting down opposite of Zayn with a newly shorn head. Causing the rest of the table to go uncharacteristically silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful readers! Cute as a button, all of you! Thanks so much for all your kind words and your loyalty. I am sorry this chapter took a bit longer than anticipated to write due to the two weddings I attended two weekends in row. Word to the wise, friends don't let friends get married. haha. Hopefully I'll be much quicker now! xx  
> P.S. Musiclily and I agree Nick is our favorite accidental character. We didn't mean for him to be such a big part but we both kind of fell in love with him. Anyone else feel that?


	7. Am I Gonna Let You Pass Me By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Families and fires and fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this chapter is crack-fic to end all crack-fics. That's barely an exaggeration.  
> Also please don't get mad at me I do all things with love xx  
> -musiclily

Harry was excited.

To be fair, Harry was often excited, if his mania had any say in it. But he continued taking Dr. Flack’s advice and reminding himself he was a full, whole person and not just a psychiatric label. It took effort, but he was working on it.

But today, he was justifiably excited, as his sister and mum were planning to visit. He loved them both desperately, and he was aching to see them. He loved them, and he wasn’t just fooling himself into thinking that. He genuinely loved them, just as he always had.

Harry waited patiently as he was let into a side visitors’ room, trying not to run his hands over his thighs or jiggle his foot too much. He grinned as the nurse or maybe nurse’s assistant or a CNA or maybe BHA—he was very bad at understanding staff’s roles and job descriptions, though he was trying to nail them down so as not to insult anyone accidentally—let him into the proper room.

He rushed to hug his mum, as she was seated closest to the door, noting out of the corner of his eye that a ginger fellow was seated beside his sister.

“Wait, Ed?” he began, extricating himself from his mother’s embrace. “Good to see you, mate, what are you doing here?”

“Came with your sister, actually,” Ed replied, getting to his feet with an easy grin, looking loose-limbed. Gemma clambered up next to him, all smiles and kind eyes. She gathered him into her arms and squeezed the breath out of him. Removing herself, she shoved Harry into Ed’s tattooed embrace. They clapped one another’s backs in a decidedly manly fashion, making Harry laugh.

“So you two are finally dating, then?” he asked with a wide grin, sitting down next to his mother.

“Oi!” Gemma squawked as Ed burst out laughing. “Way to ruin the announcement, little bro.”

“I am very perceptive, all right. Your googly eyes for one another were never very well-concealed.” Harry crossed his legs at the knee. “Even when you came over to the house under the pretense of playing guitar together, you always ended up flirting with her, mate. It’s pretty cute actually.”

“Thanks,” Gemma replied, rolling her eyes.

“That means a lot,” Ed added, taking Gemma’s hand in his.

“There’s something else though,” she said shyly, ducking her head before staring up at Harry through her eyelashes. “We’re gonna—well we’re gonna get married, actually.”

_“Yes.”_ Harry immediately pumped his fists into the air, grinning widely at everyone in the room. “Dibs on walking you down the aisle!”

“Oh, you,” his mother said, rolling her eyes. “My beautiful fool.”

“Thanks, mum.” Harry bit his lip over a wide smile, grasping his mother’s hand inside his own.

“But we can talk about that in a bit, yeah,” Ed replied, unable to keep down a bright grin. Then he added politely, “I wanna know how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to lately.”

“Oh,” Harry drawled in his typical syrupy-slow voice. “Good, really, better than before.”

“Really?” Gemma asked, eyes bright and brows raised. “That’s so good to hear. Tell me more?”

“Well, like. It’s been okay. I mean sure I’m in love with a bloke who thinks we should never ever be together mostly because he hates himself or whatever, like. But I’m handling that I think, we’re like proper mates now and everything. Plus I stopped cheeking my meds once they changed my scrips and these new ones don’t make me feel so groggy. So my medication’s stable and therapy’s going pretty well, you know? Cuz I’m figuring out how to manage some things and like remembering that my impulses aren’t automatically a good idea. I need to measure them against reality, basically.”

“That’s a lot to take in at once, I think,” his mum responded after a moment. “So they figured out your meds?”

“Right,” Harry said, nodding sharply.

“And you’re actually taking them instead of trading them for sexual favors?” Gemma asked succinctly, brow raised.

“That was one time!”

“One time is enough!”

“No way, once is just to figure out if you should keep doing it, obviously.”

“I’d really rather not talk about your sex lives, children,” their mum tittered lightly.

“I’m kind of uncomfortable with it too, actually. Just, for the obvious reasons,” Ed added. “Future mum-in-law and all.” He shrugged.

“Right. Well, as his mum, I’d just—” She paused to swallow, her eyes bright. “I just really want you to try, sweetie. Try your best so we can figure this all out and do it right. So you can come home.” She nodded, pursing her lips. “Because we need you, baby.”

Harry swallowed thickly, nodding. “I need you guys too. You too, Ed,” he added, shooting him a glance, “cuz you’re family now.”

“Good.” Ed smiled. “So that’ll make it less weird that I brought you the Foy Vance album in an attempt to bribe you to like me.”

Harry frowned. “I already like you.”

“Yeah but it helps to have musical backup, innit?”

“S’pose.”

“You’re in love with a bloke then?” Gemma blurted, turning bodily toward Harry.

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this a surprise?”

“The setting of this marvelous love story is a bit of a head-scratcher. I know you like dudes.” She shrugged.

“Since when?”

“Since you acted as officiant at the wedding of Mr. Teddy and Mr. Toad,” their mum butted in with a small smile.

“I believe Suzie Squirrel was the officiant, actually,” Harry corrected in an imperious tone.

“My mistake.” She winked at him and rubbed his forearm. “And you were my little china doll, weren’t you?”

“Ugh, mum.” He grimaced before cleared his throat. “But thanks for—thanks for being here. I just. I appreciate it. Not everyone is so—fortunate. But I need you lot here too, yeah.”

“Like we’d be anywhere else, you twat.” Gemma rolled her eyes, as Harry supposed most sisters would.

“But really though,” Harry insisted.

“We know. Now tell us more about this dumb bloke, then.”

***  
“Lou!” Lottie drawled, pulling Louis into a deep hug. “Lou, you utter moron.”

“Why am I a moron today, then?” he asked, rolling his eyes over her shoulder.

“Because you refused to let me see you last time I came to visit!” Lottie pulled away and sat down with a huff.

“Last time you visited, I was in the middle of a depressive funk that lasted a week. I didn’t get out of bed for forty-eight hours straight.”

“So this—” she began, gesturing to Louis as he sat down, taking in the bruise-colored circles under his eyes, his overly-slender frame, his wan skin. He knew he looked like shit. “—this is an improvement, then?”

“Look, I know you’re my sister but the tough-love routine isn’t necessary. I don’t need you to bully me into getting better.”

“Fine. Mum and the girls send their love. They’ll make the trip next time around.”

“Let me guess. Mum explicitly told you not to sneak me in booze.”

“You’re in a locked ward, you idiot. Of course you can’t have booze!”

“But Lottie,” Louis said with a half-put-upon whine. “How will I get the boys to like me if I can’t ply them with alcohol and empty lies?”

“What have we said about peer pressure, Lou?”

“It isn’t cute and it isn’t becoming.” Louis rolled his eyes. “And neither will I.”

She furrowed her brow. “Neither will you what?”

“Be com—”

She cut him off with a disgusted shout, juggling in her seat. “Ew, gross! Reel it in, you twat.”

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. Thanks for coming. I know you hate it here.”

“Of course I hate it here. This place just means that you’re not home.” She shrugged, pulling at a loose thread on the hem of her jumper.

“I’m not exactly loving it here either. I’m not exactly taking a holiday, all right?”

“I know that, you moron. But what is it that’s keeping you here? What makes you hate yourself so much that you need to be here? Please get it sorted, Lou. I miss you so much.”

“I’m trying,” Louis said, voice breaking. “I really am. It’s hard for you to be here, I get that, but take how much you hate it and multiple that times a thousand. That’s how fucking uncomfortable I am with my entire life, okay?” He scrubbed one hand over his face, stifling a groan. “I’m doing everything I can to be okay. Do you want the details?”

“Lou.”

He shut his eyes. “I wake up when it’s still light outside. I take a shower. I remember to eat meals even if all I can think about is how disgusting I look. I go to group and I share anecdotes about all the times I’ve tried to _cease existing._ I share my most humiliating secrets with strangers. I go to therapy and reopen old wounds that had finally been healing. I write about how I don’t deserve to be loved. I learn about self-esteem and get told I’m worth a damn, and I try to believe it. I watch other people self-destruct and try not to follow their path. I stay away from trouble and I try not to bring anything else down with me while I wait for my inevitable fucking collapse, okay? I want to get out of here but I just don’t think I ever will.” Louis pressed his lips together, trying not to cry in front of his sister. “I’m trying really hard but it’s not that easy to turn around years of terrifying self-loathing.”

“I love you so much, Lou.”

“I love you too.”

Lottie inhaled, her breath sounding wet with unshed tears. “Um. So how was your day? Today. Are you making friends? Are people being nice to you?”

Louis laughed, finally opening his eyes. “That was the most ridiculous segue, Lots.”

“You a regular Lothario in here yet? Have the trapped sheep fallen prey to your mighty advances yet?”

Louis laughed, covering his face with both hands.

“What about that one who looks like Jagger? With the lips and the hair?” She gestured vaguely to her head as Louis removed his hands from his face.

“Oh, so you’ve seen Harry.”

“Oh, _Harry,_ is it. How’s Harry, then? Besides pretty to a fault.”

“He won’t stop telling me he’s in love with me.”

Lottie snorted. “Oh my god. Leave it to you to go to treatment at a place like this, only to gain a beautiful stalker.”

“It’s deranged, I swear. I have no idea what’s going on.” Louis sighed, leaning back into his chair.

“You realize that’s kind of hilarious, right?”

“The notion isn’t lost on me, thanks.”

“So what are you going to do about it, then?”

“Probably not a damn thing. Nothing says _I’m serious about getting better_ quite like fucking a fellow mental patient.”

“Whoa, calm down there, Sparky. Put away your dirty mind. I meant like do you sit together at lunch and write each other soppy poetry and hold hands while walking down the corridor.”

“Because this is clearly a romance set in primary school?” Louis asked, brows knitted together. “Why does everyone keep thinking this place is a good setting for an actual relationship? You just think that everyone’s bright-eyed and quirky, rather than epically fucked-up?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Lottie said, scoffing. “I just don’t want to think of you having sex, obviously.”

“Uh huh. You realize that a really good lay isn’t enough to cure me, right? Someone else telling me I’m the end-all be-all of beautiful people isn’t going to fix my depression. That’s how it works.”

“But it doesn’t hurt, does it? Having someone there for you when you need a kind word.”

Louis paused. “No. No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“So are you going to let him be nice to you even though way deep-down you are convinced that there’s nothing good about you?”

“It’s not like he’s giving me much of a choice.”

“Oh no, he’s forcing his kindness on you.” Lottie rolled her eyes.

“I dunno, man, it feels a little creepy sometimes. His intensity freaks me out.”

“His intensity? Have you taken a good look at yourself lately, mate?” Lottie replied, giving him shit as only a family member could.

“Whatever. I’m prone to dramatic speeches, so sue me.”

She rolled her eyes before plucking at the stray thread of her jumper again. “How are you, really? What are your doctors actually saying?”

“Uh. They say I’m making progress, actually, and I just started this thing called EMDR? It helps you like cohesively process painful things, like memories or thoughts or whatever. And we’re processing that shit with my dad, you know, it doesn’t suck to talk about it so much anymore. I don’t totally get it, but it’s helping. Complying is actually easier than fighting at this point.” Louis shrugged.

“That’s something, at least.”

“What about the girls? What about you?”

“I have exams coming up but I’ve mostly got a handle on them. Fizzy’s got a spot in the school play, just started rehearsals. Daisy and Pheebs are convinced that they’re going to be football superstars and won’t stop bouncing headers off walls.” She smiled ruefully.

Louis nodded, gripping down hard on his own knee. “Life goes on, doesn’t it? Even while I’m stuck in here.”

“Yeah, it does. So hurry up and get back to us.”  
***  
“Hi, Nurse Lloyd. Will you chaperone me while I smoke, please?” Niall asked sweetly, clasping his hands together.

“Oh for God’s sake. Sure. Give me five minutes to finish up some paperwork and I’ll go with you.”

He waited at the nurses’ station, the very picture of innocence and patience. From his spot across the corridor, Louis gave him a small smile, noting how unnerving it was to see Niall…calm, relatively speaking. He also thought Niall was delusional for thinking he had a shot, but Louis supposed stranger things had happened.

He sauntered closer to Niall, whispering _good luck_ before leaving the vicinity. Niall bit his lip as he watched Cher fill out paperwork, marveling that she was somehow tiny and adorable yet genuinely terrifying to behold. She was short, but Niall thought she could probably beat him in a fight. She looked scrappy.

“Stop staring at me, it’s fucking weird,” she snapped, closing someone’s chart before replacing it on a shelf behind her.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever, I’m nearly done. Keep your trousers on.”

“I fully intend to take them off only once you’ve given me explicit permission!” Niall said in a chipper tone.

“Right. Keep ‘em on.” She walked out from the nurses’ station, grabbing a pack of matches as she did so. “Let’s go, pyro.”

“I’m not actually a pyro,” Niall responded, moving to follow her, “I just tend to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. While drunk.”

“You drunk right now, then?”

“Nope. Sober since I got here.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I’d be annoyed otherwise.”

“Can’t have you disappointed.”

“You really don’t want to see me on the warpath,” Cher agreed. “Come on.”

She led him out of the building and onto the patio. They leaned against the external brick wall while Cher lit the two cigarettes that Niall handed to her. He accepted one back from her, noting the pink ring of lipgloss around the top. He smiled.

“Thanks.”

They smoked three cigarettes in succession, Niall trying not to chatter inanely or stare at her too intently. He watched her eyelashes flutter every time she ashed her cigarette. As the minutes passed, he unconsciously leaned closer and closer to her. He could smell something like berries, unsure whether it was her shampoo or her lipgloss. All he wanted was to kiss her.

She stubbed out her third cigarette and glanced up at him, startled at their proximity. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip over a smile. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Trying not to think about kissing you.”

She swallowed. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Poorly.” He ducked his head down closer to her, inhaling the scent of berries. He saw her breath hitch and he leaned further. Cher tilted her head to one side and her eyes floated shut. Their lips were mere centimeters apart when someone slammed the door open with a loud curse.

Niall and Cher jumped apart, faces guilty.

 

“God, I hate her,” Zayn growled, shutting the door. “I know that’s stupid, but damn, I don’t get why she even visits anymore.”

“Who—who’s that?” Niall stuttered, turning sideways to look at the intruder.

“Danielle.”

“Right.”

“And she brought some dude with her, like what the fuck!”

“I have clearly lost the finer points of this situation, huh.”

“Sorry, yeah. But Danielle’s here and Liam’s mad and she brought some dude. Hi, Nurse Lloyd. Niall lit you on fire yet today?”

“No, not today,” Cher called, hands on her hips. “I’m holding on to the matches for everyone’s benefit, really.”

“A noble cause.”

Niall stood quietly while Zayn continued to complain about Danielle, feeling twitchy and awkward with Cher close but not close enough. Cher, for her part, watched Zayn and Niall smoke without comment.

“Okay,” she finally said after Niall smoked his fourth cigarette of the afternoon. “Thinks that ought to do it.” She ushered Zayn and Niall back inside, making sure the butts were fully extinguished.

Zayn careened off once they passed his room, corralling Louis to complain more. Niall followed Cher back toward the nurses’ station, trailing her forlornly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as she rounded the desk.

“It’s fine.” She shrugged.

They both turned when they heard Liam yell, “Get out!” He stormed through the doorway of a meeting room, two people exiting after him. Their faces were all clouded over with outrage.

“You can’t just speak to me like that!” his female visitor screamed.

“That’ll be Danielle, then,” Niall muttered, wincing as he watched the situation unfold.

Liam whipped around, steeling himself with a deep breath. “Dani, Andy. It’s been lovely, but you’re both ceremoniously invited to fuck off.”

“Argh!” Danielle cried, grabbing the hand of, presumably, Andy before dragging him down the corridor. 

“Bye!” Liam called with small wave, face murderous and dark.

“Eat shit, Liam,” she said as she brushed by Niall, pulling Andy along behind her. 

Niall heard a fizz and a pop before something fell from the ceiling, bright and flaming. “Get back!” Cher yelled, running to round the corner of her station.

“I didn’t do it!” Niall yelled, tumbling backward, grappling for a fire extinguisher. He was momentarily mesmerized by fiery debris that had just fallen from above him.

“What the hell!” Andy yelled, falling backward onto his arse and accidentally dragging Danielle down with him.

“I know you didn’t do it, moron,” Cher stammered, yanking the fire extinguisher off the wall as another nurse called a Code Red. “Just back up.”

“I fucking hate this place,” Danielle cried. She stood up and distanced herself from the fire, watching as Liam picked Andy up from the floor with minimal effort. Cher extinguished the flames quickly, sending a billow of foam onto the source.

“Just leave,” Liam added, shoving Andy in Danielle’s direction once he was sure the fire was under control. “Leave.”

“With pleasure!” she called, storming down the corridor.

Cher set the extinguisher down with a _clunk,_ shoving her sweaty fringe out of her eyes. “Holy shit.”

“What is that?” Niall asked, peering closely at the smoking wreckage.

“I think it’s a chunk of the ceiling and some wiring,” Liam said, voice thick.

“Stay back, both of you. Security and maintenance are on their way.”

“You saved my life!” Niall called, throwing his arms around Cher and planting a kiss on the top of her hair. “You smell acrid, by the way.”

“Get off me, you oaf,” she said, shoving him away with a small smile. “And I insist that the both of you return to your rooms until this gets cleaned up. Hop to it!”  
***  
“You set Liam’s best friend on fire?” Harry asked, incredulous. He leaned forward in his chair to get a better look at Niall.

“No, he—he was never on fire!” Niall insisted. “And I didn’t do it! Why does no one believe me?”

“Because you keep lighting things on fire, obviously,” Louis retorted from his spot next to Harry. He steepled his hands on the table in front of himself.

“Just the two things.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of an indication of habit, really,” Harry pointed out.

“The second one was a squirrel-related accident, all right. And it’s not my fault this place is old and scenic and has faulty wiring.”

“They got it checked out after the incident,” Louis said. “Didn’t you hear the guy crawling around in the ceiling this morning?”

“Oh. I just assumed that was Harry trying to sneak around through the air ducts or something. Spy on guys changing clothes.”

Harry shook his head. “Not really my style. I’m more of a kill-them-with-kindness, charm-em-with-a-smile sort of guy.”

“Wildly effective?” Louis guessed, smirking.

“Mostly.” He paused as though considering something. “Seems to be working for you too, Ni.” His eyes were bright.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Niall shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I keep telling everyone I’m very perceptive. Shame no one believes me.” Harry shook his head.

“Sure. Right. Yup.”

“So are you nervous around Cher for a particular reason, all of a sudden?”

_“No.”_

“No? She’s quite cool, isn’t she?”

“Yep.”

Harry smiled sharply. “That’s it?”

Niall huffed. “I’m gonna go find Zayn. He’s nice.”

“That was mean,” Louis said slowly.

“Nah, mate. I’m a matchmaker at heart. He’ll see it’s for the best.”

“This isn’t really the place for it. Romance, matchmaking.”

“That sounds so lonely. Desolate.” Harry swiveled his head to the side, giving Louis his full attention. “Not every relationship needs to last forever, you know. Some people just happen to love us when we need it most and that can be enough.”


	8. Stubborn Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strap in kids, this one's an emotional roller coaster. Soz love ya. xx  
> -sweet_disposition

Zayn hadn’t meant for it to happen really, but Perrie was nice to be around. Maybe it was that she was familiar, uncomplicated, their baggage having been aired long ago or perhaps that he enjoyed spending lazy mornings in the garden with her. Zayn was lying in the grass, staring up at the bleak grey sky in silence, while she sketched various portraits of him. He knew at the heart of it all it was a way to avoid facing Liam and the feelings that came with being in the same room as him. Liam was unpredictable, volatile, a quiet storm of a man. Liam loved full force, in a more intimate way then Zayn was used to, and it terrified him a bit that he may be in the trajectory of those emotions.

“So it’s really over then?” Perrie asked, setting her sketchbook down to look at Zayn and shaking him from what had been a comfortable silence between them. There it was, Zayn was drawn into the eye of the storm, forced to face the low rumbling distant thunder that was Liam.

“What?” He shrugged and widened his eyes, trying to give off the image of innocence and naivety while his insides coiled and wretched against each other.

“So you haven’t talked to him then?” Perrie challenged, seeing right through his act with little difficulty in a bold fashion that was decidedly her. That was thing Zayn both simultaneously loved and hated about Perrie, she was fearless.

“Who, Liam?” Zayn inquired, not quite ready to give into the straining pull on his heart quite yet.

“No the bloody prime minister. Of course Liam. Saw that twat of a girlfriend of his stomp out of here the other day. She had that Andy bloke with her too. Just figured they must have broke the news to Liam,” she laid out matter-of-factly, backing Zayn into a metaphorical corner. He was trapped now; there was no use in trying to bullshit his way out of it.

“Judging by the shouting and the amount of damage Liam did his room after, I guess I’d say that’s a safe assumption. He threw them out--quite violently,” Zayn recounted, the image of the angry scowl on Liam’s face etched into his memory.

“Can’t say you didn’t see that coming. He seems the type that doesn’t take cheating lightly. he’s on the market then?” Perrie inquired, raising one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows curiously.

“I dunno. It’s a bit soon to concern myself with that isn’t it?” Zayn snapped defensively, crossing his arms over his chest in attempt to display his discomfort with the subject.

“With the way he looks at you and the way you can’t keep your eyes off of him--no.” Perrie retorted with the effortless cool expression only she was capable of--and god Zayn really loved and hated her.

“Pezza, It’s not that simple. There are complications.” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face frustratedly.

“What like me?” Perrie blurted out, never one to fear going straight for the Achilles heel. She tucked her knees up to her chest on the bench, her hunched posture betraying the fierce look in her wide blue eyes.

“I-I um, maybe. I miss us Pez. I really like spending time with you like this. It’s nice.” Zayn admitted, leaning up on his elbows to get a better look at Perrie. She looked so small, so vulnerable, with her wispy pink hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a frown gracing her heart shaped lips.

“Nice? Is that what you’re willing to settle for?” She balked, shaking her head at Zayn in disbelief, a strand of her hair coming lose and falling in front of her eyes.

“It’s not settling. I love you--well I loved you, or at least I think I did at one point.” Zayn fumbled, finding that his emotions were becoming steadily more and more jumbled by the minute. His head was a swirling mixture, memories of laughing on the couch with Perrie while they tried to sleep off a hang over, and images of Liam perched on his meditation cushion, his thick eyebrows knitted in concentration as the sun cast shadows under his angular jaw, fading in and out.

“Zayn, just because you love someone once doesn’t mean you have to love them forever.” Perrie interjected, resting her chin on her knees as he looked down at Zayn sympathetically.

“Everything’s temporary innit?” Zayn chuckled bitterly, his mouth tasting of acid. “I guess just the reason we broke up is because you didn’t want to get sober and now you are and so am I, just seems that it might be worth a try.” He tried; desperately wanting to hold onto something that he knew was as solid as the curls of smoke from his cigarettes.

“Zee, that’s not the only reason we broke up. You’re better than this, better than us. You have a kind heart and people love you, they care about you so so much. I’m just not the best person for the job.” Perrie shrugged as if it was the simplest and most factual thing in the world, but it wasn’t, not to Zayn.

“Pez that’s not--”He argued weakly, his voice sticking on the lump in his throat.

“Not true, maybe not. But I can tell you this, you’ve got a real shot at being with someone who can give you a real future, like a house, kids, all of that. Liam’s a sure thing, he’s sweet and loyal and so many things I’m not and I’ll never be. You and I--we’re terrible for each other. We’re both addicts, we’d just end up relapsing together. Jesus, Zee, our whole relationship was based on feeding each others addictions! Both chemically and emotionally.” Perrie sighed exasperatedly, turning her head up toward the sky as if there suddenly wasn’t enough air.

“You really believe that?” Zayn frowned, knowing that even though it hurt to hear the words come from Perrie’s mouth, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already thought them himself.

“Yeah I do, Zayn, and its not that I don’t love you, because I do. You’re pretty hard not to love and that’s the problem. I held on to you for far too long already and it was selfish. I ruined your modeling career, made things tense with your family--shit, I’m most of the reason you’re here. So for once in our sordid relationship, I’m doing the right thing. I’m letting you go,” she finished with a long sigh, a weak smile spreading on her lips. She looked worn out, not much different from the way she’d look after a particularly rough coke binge, happy and yet completely deflated.

“Perrie, I-I but what if I don’t want to let you go?” Zayn stammered, getting up from the ground and moving to sit next to Perrie on the bench.

“Trust me, you do. Liam is absolutely mad about you; he’ll be so good to you. Don’t let him go just because you’re chasing a ghost. Do yourself a favor and start fresh--for me, please,” Perrie implored, resting a hand on Zayn’s knee and rubbing it soothingly.

“I’ll miss you though.” He breathed, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“I know, I’ll miss you too,” she agreed with closed eyes, allowing Zayn’s lips to linger for a second before pushing him back. “I’m getting out of here next week you know. I’ll be coming round for outpatient treatment three times a week but I’m going home,” Perrie shared, not sounding too excited about the prospect of going home.

"That’s great! You’re clean now, you’ve got a chance to make a new start too you know?” Zayn cheered, cupping her soft cheek with his warm hand, his thumb rubbing over her cheekbone.

“I’ll do my best. No promises though, old habits die hard.” She laughed softly, nudging her face up into Zayn’s touch appreciatively. “Now go! For god sake go to Liam, talk through everything. Get down on your knees and confess your love or whatever it is you sappy romantics do,” Perrie added, smacking Zayn’s hand away from her face playfully.

“This isn’t exactly a romantic comedy Pezza--but yeah, I’ll do my best.” Zayn grinned, a bittersweet wave of emotion spreading through his body as he squeezed her hand one last time.

“That’s all I ask.” Perrie grinned, releasing her grip on Zayn’s hand reluctantly. “Here, take this.” She blurted out, shoving her sketchbook into Zayns’ hands. “Most of it’s you anyway. A little something to remember me by, just promise you’ll give me credit when your children ask Liam who drew those some day.” She winked, looking off toward the hospital. “Good-bye Zayn.” She concluded, the late morning sun casting an almost halo like effect on her candy floss hair.

“It’s not good-bye, it’s see you later.” Zayn closed, his eyes stinging with repressed tears as he turned toward the hospital, the sketchbook clutched close to his chest. He was a good distance away, eyes watering despite his best attempts to hold everything in, when he heard her voice cut through the chilly air, so quite he almost missed it.

“Later.”

***

Liam was lounging about on his bed, feeling considerably lighter now that Danielle was really gone. They’d called it off the day after she left in a very brief phone call, neither of them putting up a fight, both far too exhausted to try anymore. Liam’s mum showed up at their flat the next day and collected his things, taking them home to Wolverhampton for safe keeping until he was released from Shady Pines.

The whole thing should have bothered Liam more than it did. It wasn’t just like a break up; it was an ending, Danielle taking Liam’s home and chance at a future with him. He should have felt empty as if he’d lost something, everything really. But he didn’t, not even a little bit.

There was something cathartic in not knowing. Liam’s whole life had been spent worrying about the future, arranging, rearranging and scheduling everything right down to the minutest detail. Now there was nothing but uncertainty ahead, no plans, no home, but also no expectations. It was incredibly terrifying and liberating, leaving Liam at a loss for how to feel. A small part of Liam was content to drift with no direction for a while, but a larger part of him was scrambling to grab hold of anything steady, something to keep his head above water. Zayn, his mind echoed, he wanted Zayn.

Liam’s head buzzing so loud with thoughts that he’d put in some headphones in an attempt to drown them out. A mellow playlist comprised of dulcet classical pieces droned on his ears, Dr. Flack’s suggestion. Honestly he’d rather listen to some Frank Sinatra instead but he wasn’t the one with a doctorate so he’d conceded to the soothing sounds of violins and the tinkling of piano keys.

He was laid out on his stiff hospital bed, face tilted toward the ceiling, his square stubble covered jaw on full display. He closed his eyes and let the sweeping melodies of Chopin take over, his body sagging into the stiff hospital bed.

“Liam?” A voice cut through the silence. “Li?” It repeated, still too quite to catch Liam’s attention. “Leeyum, hey can we talk?” it called out, considerably louder and definitely familiar. Zayn, great--just the person he was trying to forget, the one so close and yet just out of reach.

“Huh, oh sorry. Caught me in quite a contemplative mood,” Liam murmured lazily, his eyelids fluttering open as he pulled out his ear buds.

“Contemplative? And you said you were practically illiterate.” Zayn retorted with a raised eyebrow, sitting down next to Liam on his bed.

“Shut it! Did you really come here to discuss my subpar skills in the verbal department?” Liam grumbled with a playful smack to Zayn’s arm, his heart beating faster because Zayn was close, so close. The familiar spicy scent mixed with tobacco that was radiating off him was intoxicating, making Liam’s head spin. Zayn was intoxicating.

“No--not really. You caught me, but I’m happy to hear you’re feeling contemplative. I’ve got something else to kick around that beautiful mind of yours.” Zayn grinned, bumping his shoulder against Liam’s with a shy smile.

“Alright now, you can stop with the shameless flattery. I already like you Zayn, I should have thought that was obvious.” Liam blushed, rolling his eyes at Zayn as a shiver ran down his spine from the moment of contact.

“But is it though?” Zayn shrugged, looking down at his lap with a small frown, tangling his fingers together nervously.

“Yeah, I think so.” Liam nodded, pulling Zayn’s hands apart and replacing his fingers with his own, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I don’t, I’m not sure you fully understand the gravity of our situation.” Zayn sputtered, becoming visibly flustered and trying to wriggle his hand free of Liam’s, but no, Liam was not letting him go this easily, not this time. They were dancing on the edge of something, the very thing the Liam wanted and he was ready push them both over and fall, fast and hard into it, into them.

“Gravity? I understand gravity perfectly fine, it’s not like I live in space or something,” Liam joked, hoping to prod Zayn just enough until he broke, spilling whatever it was he was keeping from him.

“Oh you gorgeous idiot, that’s not what I meant,” he grumbled in response, his jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of his face.

“Well then, pray tell, what did you mean?” Liam smirked, feeling he was getting closer to his breaking point.

“I meant that you don’t seem to understand how much I like you. Like a lot more than I should.” Zayn gritted between his teeth, he was folding, the tension between the two of them threatening to suffocate him.

“Oh? And who decides how much a person is allowed to like someone?” Liam challenged, daring to quirk an eyebrow at him.

“The universe, uh social norms, common sense? The hell if I know. I’m obviously shit at following the instructions of any of those because I’m so gone for you.” Zayn faltered, his voice catching in his throat bit, as he looked up into Liam’s eyes with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“Gone?” Liam whispered, quirking his head to the side in confusion.

“Oh fucking hell, do I have to spell it out for you?” Zayn grumbled, gaze fixed on Liam with a fierce intensity.

“No because I’d only get the letters jumbled, dyslexic, remember?” Liam was just playing at this point, he was pretty sure he knew what Zayn meant but he just wanted to hear it from him. He needed to hear it from him--and oh god when did their faces get so close?

“Shut up Liam, please! I’m trying to be serious here! I’m bloody in love with you okay. Like you make my heart go all fluttery and I wanna write sonnets about your stupid brown eyes and all of that.” That was it, Zayn put it all on the table it was out there now big and exposed for him to see.

“You’re in love with me?” Liam gasped, his heart clawing it’s way out of his chest like a wild animal, and it’s beating pounding in his ears.

“Yes, god! Haven’t you been listening to anything I just said? I want to be with you Liam, I want it so bad! And I didn’t realize exactly how much until recently.” Zayn muttered, his breath hot against Liam’s face, their noses brushing together, sending electric waves straight to his very core.

“Zayn. I-I dunno what to say,” Liam stammered, letting his eyes slip shut, focusing on the way he could almost feel Zayn’s lips on his own. The memory of their last kiss nagging at the back his mind, it was short, too short. The last time he was plagued with guilt but it didn’t mean he wanted it any less. That was the problem, he was taken by surprise by how much he wanted Zayn. But then there was Dani and even if she was horrible to him, they had something, and he was trying desperately to cling to it. But not anymore, Liam was free. He was free to indulge his burning need to feel Zayn’s chapped lips on his own, to taste the remnants of this morning’s cigarettes on his tongue, to feel the surge of calming energy Zayn seemed to flood his system with--and fuck he’d never wanted anything more.

“Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea. I told Perrie it wasn’t this easy but she’s watched too many romantic comedies and thinks that--”Zayn muttered but was quickly cut off by the brush of Liam’s lips on his own.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, neither of them quite sure of themselves or how how the other felt. Zayn made a small surprised noise as Liam took control of the kiss with a firm hand on the back of his neck and brush of his tongue across his lips--and how could he say no to that.

Liam licked into Zayn’s mouth and it tasted every bit as wonderful as he imagined. It was so different from kissing Dani, or anyone for that manner. Zayn’s stubble brushed against his upper lip, scratchy and so deliciously boy, like nothing he’d experienced before. He whimpered softly into his mouth and laid back against the bed, pulling Zayn on top of him.

“I broke up with Dani.” He breathed hotly against Zayn’s lips, his fingers raking over Zayn’s bony spine.

“You’re not going to freak out on me again because I don’t know if I can--”Zayn panted, still slightly out of breath from the thrill of it all as he looked down into Liam’s wide brown eyes seriously.

“I broke up with Dani. It’s over and you seriously want to talk about this now? I instigated this, I want this. Now for the love of god shut up and kiss me. “Liam muttered frustratedly, everything inside of him screaming _wantwantwant_ and _zaynzaynzayn._ He tilted his head up catching Zayn’s lower lip between his teeth tugging on it lightly as he wrapped his arms around his waist, smashing their bodies together.

“Li.” Zayn moaned softly, their hips pressed together, sending all the blood rushing straight to his cock. “Fuck I want you. I want you so bad.” He groaned, hooking his fingertips around the waistband of Liam’s joggers.

“Then take me.” Liam grinned, lifting his hips up toward Zayn teasingly.

“Fuck, you’re going to be death of me Liam Payne, swear to god.” Zayn shook his head, reaching his hand down Liam’s pants and palming at his semi-hardened length through the soft cotton of his boxers.

“Don’t swear to god, it’s rude.” Liam giggled mirthfully, keening low in his throat as Zayn finally touched him the way he wanted.

“Cheeky, I like it.” Zayn snorted, leaning down and attacking Liam’s neck with wet kisses as he slid a hand inside his boxers. He had just wrapped his fingers around Liam’s cock expertly when the door clicked open.

“Finally! It’s about time someone got some action around here!” Nick announced, walking into the room and flopping onto his bed as if it were the most natural response in the world--and he could fuck right off.

“Nick!” Liam grumbled, his face flushing bright pink.

“Seriously Grimshaw, fuck off,” Zayn added, pulling his hand out from Liam’s pants and flashing him the V.

“Don’t mind if I do. I’ll watch.” Nick grinned smugly as he sat on his bed in a cross-legged position looking a like the Cheshire cat.

“No, absolutely not! You fucking pervert, keep your cock in your trousers or I’ll tell Dr. Flack where you keep your porn,” Zayn retorted, rolling off of Liam and sitting by his side, a protective arm wrapped around his shoulders. Because damn it, he’d waited for this for so long and now Nick Fucking Grimshaw waltzed in and ruined the moment--so if he had to be a tattletale, so be it.

“You wouldn’t!” Nick gasped, with an oddly coquettish expression, parted lips covered by a hand as he batted his eyelashes at Zayn.

“You wanna find out?” Zayn challenged, so yeah maybe the moment had passed but as least now he had confirmation--Liam liked him. Or at least Liam liked him enough to let him put his hand down his pants and maybe that was enough for now.

***

Niall was stretched out on the picnic table on the smokers patio, face turned up toward the sun as he tried to make the most of a particularly boring afternoon. He was finding more and more increasingly that while sobriety felt good, it was incredibly boring. Things had been a bit weird since the near-kiss with Cher and he was seriously contemplating starting something on fire to catch her attention. He was in the middle of contemplating the ways he could light the picnic table underneath him on fire and make it look like an accident when he heard the door slide open.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Shady Pines’ hottest couple. News travels fast around here ya know? Nick’s a big gossip!” he called out, once the familiar voices came into focus.

“Shut the fuck up, Niall. You snogged Cher yet?” Zayn retorted, gaining a side eye and a gentle ribbing from Liam. Niall liked Liam, he was polite and he always shared his dessert with him at dinner, which in Niall’s book was worth all the points in the world.

“No, no thanks to you! I was this close, this fucking close! Then you came out ranting about your boyfriend and ruined it all,” he huffed, swinging his legs over the table so his feet were resting on the bench. He watched Liam’s eyes light up at his choice of words, suddenly looking more like an over grown puppy than full grown man at the moment.

“Boyfriend, he called me your boyfriend!” Liam chirped, ducking his head to kiss Zayn’s cheek with wide doe eyes and a beaming smile.

“That’s because you are, you donut.” Zayn laughed, shaking his head at how excited Liam was. “I mean--if you want to be,” he added, suddenly going sheepish as he waited for Liam’s reply.

“Yes, god! Yes! I’d love that!” Liam cheered, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s waist and lifting him off the ground a bit as their lips crashed together in a very public display of affection, their mouths smacking together noisily with small happy squeaks mixed in between.

“Oh fuck, no I am not sitting here and watching you lot exchange saliva,” Niall groaned, and Jesus Christ since when was everyone in this bloody mental hospital getting some action but him.

Zayn simply responded with a rude gesture in Niall’s direction, his eyes closed as he kept snogging Liam enthusiastically.

“Christ, I swear to god everyone in the place is mental.” Niall muttered to himself, jumping off the table and making his way to the door. He reached for the handle of the door but instead was met with something decidedly squishier.

“Including you.” Cher responded, her eyes darting down to where Niall’s hand was resting on her chest before smacking it away, his eyes widening in response.

“Cher--hey!” he fumbled, wishing desperately to be anywhere but here. He’d just groped his nurse on accident; this really was an ace day for Niall Horan.

“So they’re finally a thing I see.” Cher laughed, shifting her attention to where Liam and Zayn were sitting, a tangled mess of bodies on the picnic table.

“Yeah, disgusting innit. Love.” Niall wrenched out, jumping at the opportunity to change subjects to anything but the fact that he’d just accidentally copped a feel. He truly was a bumbling idiot and Cher was so pretty and--fuck he was so sexually frustrated.

“Nah, it’s kinda cute actually. Makes me wanna try it out myself.” Cher shrugged, a fond smile gracing her pretty berry-pink lips, Niall had never been aware of how much he wanted to kiss her as he was at that moment.

“Really.” He croaked, his voice catching on the lump in his throat as he watched her glossy lips part with each word.

“Maybe, could be nice if the right bloke came along. One that lit a fire in me so to speak,” she added, a bit of a lilt to her voice as she pulled her full bottom lip between her teeth.

“Shit.” Niall muttered, shaking his head to try to rid himself of all the wildly inappropriate thoughts buzzing just under the surface. His mouth hung open a bit out of sheer disbelief that someone as fierce and pretty as Cher existed.

“Eyes front, Horan. You look better with you’re mouth closed,” Cher quipped, placing a finger under his chin and pushed his jaw shut.

“Are you?” Niall breathed, his eyes locked on Cher’s as if he were trying to call her bluff and maybe he was. He had to know if the tension he felt was all in his mind, a result of being locked up in a hospital with delusional patients for too long or if maybe, just maybe she felt it too.

“Am I what?” Cher asked, removing her hand from his chin and leaning against the brick wall behind them.

“You--you’re coming on to me,” Niall stammered, shuffling back and forth on his feet clumsily.

“Only if you want me to,” she challenged, reaching forward and pulling Niall in by the front of his t-shirt until he was crowding her space.

“I--shit I want you to.” Niall gulped almost cartoonishly, feeling as if his eyes may pop out of his skull.

“Well you’ll have to try harder than. I like my men a little less desperate and you’re absolutely gagging for it.” Cher laughed, her head tilting back and revealing the tempting pale skin on her neck before pushing Niall back, leaving him stumbling.

“Well it’s not like I’ve got a wide selection of options here.” He scoffed quietly, a bit put off by all her teasing.

“Gee you really know how to make a girl feel special. Bet that worked on all the girls back home in whats-it-called Ireland.” She shook her head at Niall, shiny brown hair bouncing over her shoulders.

“It’s Mullingar. Not really, I mostly set fires for excitement.” Niall chortled, trying his best to play it cool. Yeah he could play it cool, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had decent shag in four weeks or anything.

“Do you now? I had no idea.” Cher said, smacking his shoulder playfully.

“Yeah, got a match?” He leaned his arm against the cool brick so they were nearly face-to-face.

“Nah but I’ve got a break in 15 minutes and a map of the hospital including the abandoned ward.” She smirked, ducking out from underneath Niall’s arm and heading back for the door.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, definitely not watching Cher’s perky arse as she walked away with a swish of her petite hips.

“Well you know where to find me. Later pyro,” she called over her shoulder, leaving a shell shocked Niall in her wake.

“Later.” He whispered, stuck to the spot as Liam and Zayn laughed loudly behind him. He made a mental note to hide Zayn’s hair products later; if he wanted to be an arse, well, two could play that game. But first he had an important matter to attend to, one with berry lips and deliciously tempting curves--yeah, revenge could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii friends! Is everyone okay? I'm not sure if I am! I had wayyy too much fun writing this chapter. Please don't throw things at me. But any who been meaning to tell you if you want to be friends or poke me with hot irons until we update faster my tumblr is littlemisscraic.tumblr.com and my lovely coauthor's is musiclily.tumblr.com :)


	9. Been Running in the Wrong Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous and beautiful and sinful. And someday? Someday you’re going to ruin me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally brought the smut, folks. FINALLY  
> xx  
> we love your comments and criticism!  
> (also the ward I mention is CLEAN and NOT CREEPY but definitely old and abandoned, thanks!)
> 
> -musiclily

Louis outright cackled as he spotted Niall running pell-mell through the ward, laughing even harder when he got told off by three BHAs in a row. He bent over double, slapping his thighs with both hands.

“What’s funny?” Harry asked, ducking his head out of his room, scanning the corridor frantically.

“Niall’s not just on the pull, it appears. Seems he’s getting yanked off-stage with a shepherd’s crook.” Louis wheezed slightly, catching his breath.

“Did he—I didn’t think he could actually run that fast. Not with all the deep-fried chicken he eats.”

“I think he just needed the right motivation,” Louis mused.

“Cher,” Harry said flatly, eyebrow raised.

“Who’s surprised.”

“Yeah, I guess. How—how are you?”

“I’m, um. Fine, actually. I mean. I showered already today, so nothing’s stopping me, innit.”

“I’ve been awake since six am,” Harry responded, casting his eyes to the ground. “I’m trying to keep the manic at bay, you know? With like sandbags and sea walls and everything.”

“You’re a very strange human being.”

“I’ve been told it’s an asset.” Harry’s cheeks flushed.

“I’m not complaining.”

“Oh.”

“So, can I have your help with something?” Louis asked brightly, before he could talk himself out of anything.

“Oh, sure.” Harry shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trackies.

“Great.” Louis grabbed Harry by the wrist and tugged him down the corridor to the room he shared with Zayn. “Sit,” he demanded, shoving Harry haphazardly onto his bed. He watched with amusement as Harry’s light figure bounced twice before settling in. “So my mum’s visiting sometime next week, right.” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I understand this concept.” Harry nodded slowly, feigning seriousness.

“Right. So it’s kind of a pathetic gesture, but like. My little sisters are twins, you know, and their birthday is coming up and I want to give them something, at least, even if it’s shit. And all I can really manage from in here is…to make something.”

“I understand.”

“Plus they’re kids and they kind of don’t care as much as they might—”

“They love you, Lou, so please stop worrying and get on with it.”

“Oh, so. They like a lot of stuff, right, because they’re kids. So they’re in a ballet class right now, and they both really like going to the park and climbing trees, and Phoebe loves playing the piano but Daisy is really into football?” Here he paused, turning around to shuffle some papers on the top of his dresser. “So like, I figured I’d give them something I made in expressive arts, something that exemplifies them as people, and I just want to know which of these you think is, like. Good enough to give somebody.” Louis handed him six pieces of cardstock, which were covered in various kinds of painting and drawing.

“I think—I think you think too much, Lou, and I think you’re lovely. And I think you discount yourself too much, and that your sisters love you, and they’re just kids, aren’t they, and they love you even more than you love them. And you love them so much, I know, and you send them letters every week and call them every other day, and it’s—you think too much. And you should give yourself more credit than you do. And, like. I think Daisy might like this black-and-white one,” he said, holding one of Louis’ drawings aloft, “and maybe Phoebe would want this one, of the trees? Because she likes climbing. I think she’d like this one.”

“D-do you? Think so?”

“Yeah, course.”

Louis nodded slowly. “Thanks.” He tucked his chin down against his chest. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Not any other reason?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, lips pursed. “Like what?”

“Like you feel bad for me, or, like, you’re nuts?”

“Course I’m nuts. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“Are you lying to be nice? Or like pitying me, because I’m like one of the three-percent gay guys here?”

“I’m not a liar, ever,” Harry growled, jaw clenched. “So get that idea out of you head. And also, the majority of people here are either gay or willing to _go_ gay due to limited access, so put that out of your mind too. What I’ve been saying is that I like you and I’ve liked you a long time and I won’t stop any time soon. _You, just you._ And that’s a promise.”

Louis shook his head rapidly, scoffing to himself. Before speaking, he sat down on the floor, hard, exhaling. “It’s not you,” he said, covering his face with his hands. “This isn’t just about you.”

“What?”

“It’s not you!”

“So what is it then?”

“Insanity—crazy, it runs in my family, it’s in my veins. Not just runs, it sprints, okay, it goes on and on. My father, biological father, he drank and he hit us, me and mum, and he slept for weeks at a time. That was just normal for us, or at least my dad’s side I guess, and I just—I can’t let my mum have that again, like, someone abandoning her? I need to get better because she needs me to and I need me to and I think you do, too.”

“I do,” Harry whispered, nodding slowly. “I need you.”

“But my dad left my mum or she kicked him out for the, the depression, and like—everything changed, innit, and they got divorced, and I think it was my fault? The first and the second time, like, and I can’t hurt her again. Not a fourth time. This is the third, I mean, with my dad and stepfather, and now me. I can’t do it again, so I. I need to get better? And I can’t do it to anyone else, can’t hurt them again either. My sisters need me, and I think maybe you—” Louis’ voice dropped off and he bit his lips.

“And maybe I want you to be with me?” Harry whispered.

“Something like that.” Louis ran the back of his hand against his eyes, scrubbing them mercilessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, please don’t be. I love you and I’ve always loved you. Please don’t doubt me, babe.”

“Of course I doubt! Why would I not, after all this?”

“Damn, Lou. It’s you I come up to, compare to, try to live up to!”

“And it’s Nick you run to.”

“Only when you say you hate me, Lou. Not otherwise. I want no one but you, no matter the excuses you make on your own behalf. I love you here and now, and no matter who’s crazy or legally insane, whatever. I need to tell you that I don’t care at all. And I know you don’t love me,” he added, brow peaked, “and I know you’ve never said it, besides, but that doesn’t matter to me. Because I love you, and that’s enough for now.”

“Is it?” Louis asked, voice ragged and cold. “Harry, I’m not sure it is. Enough.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure you’re enough for me or I’m enough for you. We’re two—it’s separate. I’m not sure I can do what you need me to do.”

“You’re already enough. For me. If I’m not enough for you, that’s different, but be sure—be sure that’s what it is.”

“I need to be sure I’m not going to hurt someone else just by being the way I am. For my chemistry and biology. I need to get better.”

“I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, well, we’re in a controlled environment. I have handlers here. To keep me from dying.”

“I like you always.”

“You won’t forever.”

“I might.”

Louis crinkled his nose, his lips pursing. “You might not.”

“Babe,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “Come on.”

“But really.”

“I love you,” Harry replied, shrugging. “Even if you say I shouldn’t? Yeah. I do.”

“Give it a week. You won’t.”

“Such little faith.” Harry bit his lip, considering Louis for a moment. “Give me a month. You’ll come around.”

“Stop it. I’m—not a bet you can try to meet.”

“Didn’t mean that. Just meant you’ll take at least a month to get convinced I mean it.”

“I know you mean it.”

“Speeding things up. I like it.”

“Stop, please.”

“I love you.” Harry bit his lip, smiling around his teeth, dimples apparent. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

***

Niall quick-walked down the corridor, taking Cher at her word. He heard Louis laughing at him and he ignored it, as he often did with Louis. He passed the nurses’ station, raising a brow as he did—remembering that Cher didn’t have a break for maybe ten minutes or more—and he continued on.

He leaned against the wall of a less-traversed corridor, hoping and waiting for Cher to find him. He was mostly hoping more than he was actually waiting, and he bit his lip as he leaned against the wall until she arrived.

Then he saw her casually walk toward him, hands in her pockets smile bright. “You okay?”

“Never better,” she said, shrugging. “Let’s go.” She led him down the corridor, exiting the main ward using her key-card.

“How long is your break?” he asked, trailing along behind her like an overeager puppy.

“Long enough.” She threw him a smile over her shoulder.

“Are you so sure about that?” He leered at her, biting his lip.

“I’m sure.”

She opened another door, this one leading to a small courtyard that connected the old ward with the new wings of the hospital.

“This is pretty,” Niall commented, casting his gaze around the grassy quadrangle.

“Shouldn’t you be telling me _I’m_ pretty?”

“You’re gorgeous. You’re awe-inspiring. You look like a god-given angel. Your lips look like berries and cream, especially when you wear that lipgloss or whatever? And I swear I’ve had dreams about your tits that woke me up in tears.”

Cher snorted. “Charming. Your lines usually work on birds, then?”

“Sometimes. Depends.”

“We’ve still got a ways to go, you’ve got time to share details,” she added as they traipsed across the plush grass. “Depends on what?”

“Depends on whether they like me or not, I guess.”

“Oh come on. Who wouldn’t like you?”

“Probably the guy whose pub I sorta burned down. Unless he used the insurance money to move to Fiji.”

“See? You’re helping people follow their dreams. Good on you, mate.”

“And you? Am I helping you follow your dreams?”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

“I feel like you’ve set—like the gauntlet’s been thrown. Or something.”

“Think you’re up to the challenge?” she murmured, turning back to grab his hand.

“Half there already, actually,” Niall answered, _not_ gesturing to his own cock, because he had class. Something like class.

She halted in front of a closed door, raising her pointer finger to stop Niall as well. She removed her other hand from his, reaching into her pocket to remove a rusted key. “Nicked this for a rainy day. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Cher opened the door and pulled it open, creaking its hinges. She grabbed his hand again, drawing him forward into the dark corridor. “Promise I didn’t lure you here to murder you.”

“I doubt I’d care even if you did,” Niall breathed, breath caught in his throat. “I’m totally the type to get into a car with a serial killer who offered me candy.”

“What kind of candy?” she retorted, turning to give him a blazing smile that shone even through the gloom.

“I—fuck, babe, I don’t even care.” Niall surged forward, cupping his hands around Cher’s hips and drawing her in. “Are there lights? I want—to see you.” He dragged her body closer, kneading his fingers against her hips.

“Yeah, they’re—” Cher began, breathless. “They’re gonna renovate it soon, or something, so the wiring’s mostly intact.” She threw an arm out sideways, scrabbling against the wall to flick a switch. “There we go,” she added, smiling into the lighted dust-filled room. She twined her arms around Niall’s neck, leaning in. “You gonna kiss me?”

“If you stop talking, beautiful,” he whispered, shunting forward, pressing their lips together. He ran his right hand down her torso, feeling the heat of her skin beneath the fabric of the scrubs she wore.

She scrabbled against his biceps, teasing her fingers down his arms. She licked raggedly against his tongue, drawing him into her mouth. Her right leg hitched up against his thigh and he grabbed it with his hand, wrapping it around his waist.

He pulled away, murmuring, “You’re gorgeous,” before surging in to kiss her throat and her collarbone and her jaw. “You’re amazing.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, rutting into Niall’s pelvis. “God”

“Babe,” he responded, kissing a stripe up her neck, humming into her jaw. “Babe.” He ran his hand down her torso, teasing fingers against her pelvis and thighs. “What do you want from me?

“What—” Cher breathed, her voice catching. “What are you going to do?”

Niall shot her a wicked grin, fingers catching on the waistband of her scrubs. “What will you let me do?”

“Anything, everything,” she said, tipping her head back against the wall.

“Babe,” Niall growled before attaching his mouth to her jaw. Biting down, he ran his fingers across her abdomen, tucking them into the waistband of her scrubs, forgetting her role and her duty and her job. He simply slipped his fingers into her knickers and bit against her cheek, smiling into her skin.

“Oh god,” she whispered, head knocked back, face slack.

“Beautiful girl,” Niall murmured, thumb circling her clit. He pressed inside her with his pointer finger, middle finger quickly following. He felt gratified as she gasped into the dim room. “So beautiful, babe,” he added, working his thumb against her, listening to her gasp. His two fingers pressed inside her, loosening her up to add his ring finger. He leaned forward, kissing her lips as he keened into her g-spot. He loved the way she whined into his mouth, and he smiled against her lips.

Niall’s fingers scissored inside her, pressing into the walls of her cunt as he panted hungrily. “So hot for me.”

“God, amazing,” Cher stuttered, her chin jutting backward, head knocking into the wall. “K-keep going.”

Niall pressed forward, his thumb circling her clit more insistently, his fingers plunging deeper into her. “How’sat?” he muttered against her jawbone, voice ragged.

“Perfect, perfect,” she agreed, rutting into his hand greedily. “It’s perfect.”

He worked his fingers and palm back and forth, soaking in Cher’s moans and whimpers. He pressed against her constantly, consistently, rocking back and forth as she breathed against him.

“Perfect angel,” he whispered, knocking his fingers up into her, mouth by her cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“You just—” Cher muttered, eyes closed, head knocked back. 

“You going to come for me, angel?” he asked next, pressing his fingers and thumb into her with persistence. “Soon, love, you’re so close.”

_“Fuck.”_ Cher wrapped her left leg around Niall, drawing him closer, sucking his weight forward in order to press her into the wall. He refused to let her drop. “Close, I’m so close, you’re so good, you—” she babbled before Niall shushed her.

“You’re close, and I’ve got you, angel.” He breathed into her neck, her collarbone, the bits of her that his mouth could touch. “Beauty, you are.”

“Nearly c—”she began, mouth dropping open, eyes slotting shut. Niall grinned, his fingers working inside her as his thumb circled her clit.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he murmured, feeling her cunt spasm around his fingers—riding out her climax with joy and precision. “So lovely.” She shuddered for countless moments, his fingers deep inside her.

“Lovely,” Cher breathed back to him, her eyes closed and her head lax against the wall. “You are.”

“What?”

“You are lovely. This, here. Lovely.”

“Right,” Niall responded, pursing his lips with a nod. He let Cher down carefully from her spot pinned high on the wall. She didn’t open her eyes until her feet hit the ground.

“Damn.” Her eyelids fluttered open, lashes shadow-light. “Beat the challenge, you have.”

“Me? We’re talking about me? And not how hot you were coming on just my fingers?”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, covering her eyes with one hand.

“Shh, no. Look at me, beauty. Don’t be embarrassed, ever. You’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous as sin.”

“What?” she asked, voice light.

“Gorgeous and beautiful and sinful. And someday? Someday you’re going to ruin me. But right now I think you need a kiss,” Niall posited, planting his lips onto her cheek. “Maybe a thousand of them.”

“A kiss,” Cher agreed, eyes bright in the afternoon light, pressing her lips to his.

***

And Louis found himself cuddled against Harry’s side, both of them curled into his bed. “I love you,” Harry muttered as they fell asleep. “I love you,” he murmured as they woke up.

Louis smiled.

“Do you believe me yet?”

“No,” Louis breathed quietly, eyes shut.

“But you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***

“An early memory,” Dr. Teasdale requested, pen poised above her notepad. “It doesn’t have to be the earliest memory you have, but let’s make it something before ten years old.”

“Oh.” Louis paused, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. “I guess it’s. Well. I used to scream? When my mum drove onto this specific intersection, like. Away from my gran’s house, every single time. Like I would just scream every time we crossed that intersection. And I—it would just be screaming on end. I had no idea why.”

“No idea?” she asked, brow inquisitive.

“Not really, no.”

“And this is a repeated occurrence? Every time?”

“Yeah, every time. My mum would like try to figure it out but eventually she just kind of…let it go? Or ignored it and turned the radio up to drown me out.”

“How old were you? When this started?”

“Probably three or four?

“That sounds frustrating. Being a little kid and not having descriptors for your emotions. Just knowing you have something that’s overwhelming you.”

“And no one—understood, or could explain it.”

“Oh,” Dr. Teasdale breathed, making a note on the paper in her lap. “So those feelings never really got processed?”

“I guess not.”

“And what is your current understanding of that, the screaming when you left your gran’s?”

“That I was…sad. To be leaving her.”

“And you felt that on such a deep level.”

“I mean, I guess.”

“And this is one of your earliest memories? This persistent screaming, the sadness and confusion?”

“Yeah. It’s probably one of the first things I remember, even.”

“That’s a confusing moment to orient yourself around, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I—yeah. I didn’t get it. Still kind of don’t.”

“This is helpful. We can definitely work with this, process it. I appreciate you sharing this with me.”

“Um. Sure.”

They each made a few more cursory remarks, finishing up the session after the allotted fifty minutes. Then he strolled down the main corridor of the men’s ward, biting his lip, contemplating his own inability to label his feelings.

He ducked his head around the open door of Harry’s room before he could talk himself out of it. Harry broke into a wide grin from his bed where he was sitting cross-legged. “Hi.”

“I’m scared,” Louis murmured.

“Okay. Of what?” Harry moved up the bed, clearing a space for Louis to sit near his feet.

“Of you. And being vulnerable. And um. Of feelings in general, because I’m only used to having negative feelings. So I’m convinced this will be like that. Scary and negative. And you’re so bright and shiny and I don’t want to ruin that either. Or let myself get hurt by you.”

“Yeah. Your feelings are valid. Relationships are hard and they’re scary. But they’re also exciting and challenging and fun. They’re what gets us up in the morning and through the day. They help you grow. And if you find a bad one, well, they don’t have to be permanent, you know? You just have to try it and see. And the good thing is, you’re not alone in it. Because the other person’s there, and they’re probably just as scared as you.”

‘You’re—damn you and your wisdom. Shit.”

“Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know you do.” Louis crawled further up the bed, nestling himself against Harry’s chest, offering him a small, private smile.


	10. The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mum? What are you doing here?"

Liam and Zayn had been having a bit of a lazy Sunday, enjoying sleepy cuddles and lazy kisses. Nick was out on a family visit for his birthday, leaving them with the room all to themselves for the day. The couple had been curled up on his bed talking about things they loved when Zayn had brought up comics. Liam’s face lit up almost instantly and he jumped up to pull a box full of comics out from under his bed. “So are you a DC or Marvel kind of guy?” Liam asked curiously, pulling a stack of comics his mum had sent him out of the box next to his bed.

“Well, that’s a million pound question, innit? I think I’m more of a DC guy. I love a bit of Batman and The Green Lantern,” Zayn responded, looking through the stack of comics excitedly, finding himself impressed with Liam’s taste in superheroes.

“Batman is my favorite, hands down!” Liam nodded in agreement, gesturing to the wide selection of comics featuring his hero. “But The Green Lantern? Really? Sorry babe but I have to agree to disagree with you on that one. The only good thing to come out of The Green Lantern was the movie and its only saving grace was Ryan Reynolds in spandex.” He laughed, hooking an arm around Zayn’s waist and pulling him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

“So you’re more of a Marvel man I take it? Besides Batman,” Zayn asked, holding up an Iron Man comic and choosing to ignore Liam’s obviously incorrect judgment regarding The Green Lantern.

“Yeah, guilty as charged.” Liam shrugged, taking the comic from his hands. “You have to admit Tony Stark is a legend. I mean he’s absolutely brilliant and he’s so complex! Iron Man is easily one of the top ten superheroes of all time,” he added, his passion and unabashed nerdniess coming across painfully endearing.

“You’re such a nerd, it’s kind of hot.” Zayn whispered, shoving the comics aside and crawling into a straddling position in Liam’s lap. “Leeyum.” He whined, ducking his head to suck on the birthmark on Liam’s neck. “How are you real? I swear to god, it’s just not fair for one person to be as adorable and sexy as you are simultaneously,” he mumbled, nipping at the small brown splotch that had become his favorite spot to kiss.

“We’ve got the room to ourselves you know,” He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows at Zayn suggestively.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Zayn breathed against Liam’s ear, nibbling on the lobe teasingly.

“It means whatever you want it to.” Liam shivered, resting his hands on Zayn’s slender hips and giving them a gentle squeeze, his thumbs pressing into his soft skin.

“Hmm well, let me think on that.” Zayn hummed thoughtfully, rocking his hips down against Liam experimentally. “What do you think Li?” he asked softly, leaning in until their lips brushed together.

“Fuck,” Liam cursed, crashing their lips together roughly, his tongue slipping in Zayn’s mouth eagerly with an almost pathetic whimper. He wanted this, he wanted this so bad.   
Ever since the first time Nick so rudely interrupted their fooling around, it was honestly all he could ever think about. Unfortunately, being psych patients, they were never truly alone after that--until now.

“Babe, you need to be quiet,” Zayn mumbled against Liam’s lips, his fingertips slipping under his t-shirt and grazing over his abs soothingly. “If you wanna do this we have to be quiet. Otherwise someone will hear and they’ll probably stop us,” he added, pecking Liam’s lips sweetly.

“Okay.” Liam nodded, reconnecting their lips and kissing Zayn slowly to keep himself quiet. He slid his hands around to Zayn’s back, dipping them lower and lower until they were resting on his bum.

“I’m just going to get this out of the way.” Zayn smiled, rucking Liam’s shirt up over his defined stomach, taking a moment to trace the hard lines of the muscles for a moment before pulling it up and over his head effortlessly. “Perfect,” he whispered, leaning down to press kisses across Liam’s toned chest.

“Not as perfect as you,” Liam murmured softly, stroking Zayn’s hair lovingly as he watched his lips press against his skin. “You’re so beautiful Zayn, so gorgeous, I love you.” He sighed, brushing a thumb over Zayn’s cheek.

“I love you too.” Zayn breathed, pressing a light kiss over Liam’s heart as he glanced up at him earnestly.

Liam’s breath caught in his throat because there was so much honesty and vulnerability in Zayn’s eyes and he finally understood what real love felt like. Sure he and Dani had exchanged the phrase several times, but it was different. Their love was a sort of empty love, one born out of fear of change and settling into the comfort of the familiar. But with Zayn there was much more at stake, it was risky, both of them being far from stable and neither of them expecting to find this sort of intimacy on their way to healing. It wasn’t that Zayn was making him whole, but rather that he was making him alive and finally open to real emotion. It was a wonderfully terrifying feeling. He was about to open his mouth when there came a soft knocking on the door.

“Liam?” Cher’s voice called out, causing Liam to scramble to put his shirt back on.

“Babe, we have to--I’m sorry.” Liam frowned, hoping Zayn understood that he really was very sorry that they had to stop.

“It’s okay, I know. Later.” Zayn smiled gently, pecking Liam’s lips and rolling off of his lap. He rearranged himself into a sitting position, picking up a comic and putting another in Liam’s lap to make things look a bit more innocuous.

“Yeah Cher, come in.” Liam called out, scrubbing his hands over his eyes, more than a bit frustrated.

The door cracked open slowly and Cher poked her head in, smiling at the pair sympathetically. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ve got a visitor, Liam,” she added, taking two steps into the room.

“Who is it?” Liam asked curiously, trying to remember if he should be expecting his mum or one of his sisters.

“It’s uh, well--they’re waiting in Dr. Flack’s office,” Cher fumbled, failing to hide the obvious worry on her face. “It’s Andy, he just wants to talk and yeah, I’m just the messenger. Sorry,” she blurted out, her face turned toward the floor.

Liam’s entire body tensed up at the mention of his best mate--well, former best mate he reminded himself. As if he could read his mind, Zayn was rubbing his back soothingly. “Hey, easy Li. It’s okay babe,” he cooed, patting his back reassuringly.

“So yeah, you can go whenever you’re ready. They’ll be waiting,” Cher mumbled, giving them both a weak smile before shuffling out the door hesitantly.

“What the fuck could he possibly want?” Liam bristled as soon as the door clicked shut, his jaw fixed in a tight and very uncomfortable position.

“I don’t know. But he came back, even after you threw him out--so it might be worth at least hearing him out,” Zayn said softly, keeping his voice low and calm in hopes that his mood would rub off on Liam.

“Hear him out? He fucked my girlfriend, and he was my best mate! I trusted him!” Liam grumbled, fire burning in his deep brown eyes.

“I know Li, I know. What he did was shitty, he betrayed you and you have every right to be upset. But--it didn’t turn out so bad did it? You got me out of the deal,” Zayn reasoned, pressing soft kisses along Liam’s jaw.

Liam inhaled deeply and let it out with a shaky exhale, his muscles relaxing a bit as he soaked in Zayn’s words and his tender touches. “Yeah, you do have a point. I’m still angry at him, but you have a point.” He nodded, leaning into Zayn for comfort.

“I know. I’m wise like that,” Zayn replied with a smug grin, and slid his arm around Liam’s shoulders. “The thing is, if we’re going to work in the real world--outside of here. You’re going to have to learn to handle things like this,” he started, looking at Liam seriously. “You can’t just turn into some sort of Incredible Hulk every time you get angry. I’m not strong enough to hold you back,” he laughed softly, patting Liam’s knee.

“You want to be together outside of here?” Liam smiled, his mood lifting a bit.

“Of course I do. I love you, I’m absolutely mad about you and I think we’ve got a shot at the real thing here--with us I mean. But only if we both put in our work here so we’re both stable and able to cope with all the bullshit. You know what I’m saying?” Zayn explained, nudging his nose against Liam’s cheek.

“Yeah, I get it. I can’t go organizing our entire flat every time I’m upset and you can’t go off and do lines every time we disagree.” Liam laughed, turning his face to peck Zayn’s lips.

“Exactly, you’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for,” Zayn mused, hugging Liam to his side.

“Not as smart as you.” Liam blushed, giving Zayn’s side a squeeze. “I should go. I can do this. I mean he was my best mate at some point so there’s gotta be some good in him,” he added, looking toward the door hopefully.

“I bet there is, even if it’s just the fact that he’s part of the reason why I got to keep you in the end.” Zayn chuckled, getting up from Liam’s bed. “I’m gonna go now, give you some time to prepare yourself. Told Perrie I’d go visit her after her group session anyway,” he noted as he walked toward the door. “It’s her first day of outpatient you know. I’m really proud of her.” He smiled fondly; taking in the sight of Liam sprawled out on his bed surrounded by the comics.

“Yeah? That’s great. You’re such a good friend for being there for her through it all. Tell her I said hello and that she better not be putting the moves on my boyfriend!” Liam called out as Zayn stepped out the door, only half joking.

“Yeah, yeah, try not to kill Andy will ya? It’ll be even more difficult for us to be together if you go to prison for murder charges!” Zayn yelled around the door before letting it slip back closed and heading down the hallway.

***

Zayn rounded the corner from Liam’s room, humming happily to himself and not paying attention to where he was going. He was thrown off balance when he collided against someone in the hallway. He jumped back even further once he recognized the figure standing in front of him. “Mum?” He gasped, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “What are you doing here? Thought you weren’t scheduled for a visit for another week?” he added, pulling her in for a hug.

“Something came up Zee, I had to come sooner,” she mumbled quietly, her long hair tickling Zayn’s neck.

“Have you been crying?” Zayn asked, noting that her eyes were rimmed with red and slightly puffy.

“Can we please just go in your room?” his mum responded, her voice near pleading as she snuffled slightly.

“Yeah of course.” He nodded, thoroughly confused by the entire situation. Zayn ran through possible scenarios in his head: maybe his mum and dad were getting a divorce, or maybe she just missed him. Zayn hoped it was the latter rather than the former as he was actually quite fond of his dad. He led his mum into his room sitting down on his bed and patting the spot next to him for her.

“I’m sorry Zayn, I wish I could have come sooner,” she started, looking around his room with a small frown. “But I couldn’t believe it myself and I had to make sure before I told you,” she finished with a shaky sigh, turning her face up to the ceiling and blinking rapidly to keep herself from crying.

“Told me what?” Zayn said softly, becoming steadily more and more concerned. He’d seen his mum like this maybe three times in his life. Once when she’d found the cuts on his arms, then again when she told him his grandfather had died and finally the day that she’d dropped him off at Shady Pines. Whatever this was, it must be serious and it made him feel sick with worry.

“Jonnie called me last night, he was a mess and it took me a while to sort out what he was saying,” his mum got out, her voice sounding choked off as if it were catching on something in her throat.

“Why would Jonnie call you? Was he drunk again?” Zayn reasoned aloud, trying to figure out why Perrie’s brother would be calling his mum and what he could possibly say that was enough to upset her. He knew the lad could get quite mean when he was drunk but, never enough to say something that hurtful.

“No baby, he wasn’t drunk. It’s Perrie,” she replied quickly, resting her hand on his knee in a way that she only did when she tried to comfort him.

“Perrie, wait--what? What about Perrie?” he stammered, fearing whatever was to come next.

“She’s gone, love,” his mum replied, the three words resonating through his head as if it were some sort of dream.

“Gone? She can’t be, she had her first group session today. They released her last Thursday. Did she run away or something?” he rushed out, trying to rule out what she meant by gone. Perrie had run away a few times, twice from home and once from their flat when she and Zayn had a row. So it wasn’t that far of a stretch that she might run away, especially with the pressure of staying clean hanging over her head.

“No. She didn’t run away--honey, I don’t know how to tell you this.” She sniffled, her eyes welling up with tears. Tears, this certainly could be good. His mum was always so strong and tears only spelt bad news.

“Tell me what mum? Is she alright? Where is she? She didn’t relapse did she?” Zayn rambled on nervously, feeling like crawling out of his own skin because, this wasn’t happening, not when he’d just seen Perrie less than a week ago. She had to be okay, she was getting better, she was happy, sitting by the little pond by her dad’s house sketching the people milling about in the park.

“Zayn, she’s dead. She overdosed last night,” she said flatly, the words falling heavy in Zayn’s heart.

Everything went silent for a moment, so much so he swore he could hear his own heart beating in his ears. He closed his eyes and told himself that this was just a dream and when he opened his eyes Perrie would be there all wide-eyed and shiny pink hair. “What? No she didn’t. She’s fine, she’s just down the hall with Dr. T and the rest of her group. She was getting better, got a big job for Topshop,” he rationalized, opening his eyes and gasping for air. He needed air and Perrie, he had to go find her.

“Baby, she’s not. They found her on the bathroom floor at her dad’s house. She’s gone,” his mum repeated, the word gone still feeling foreign in his ears.

“No she’s not! She’s not and I’ll prove it!” Zayn nearly shouted, getting up from his bed and heading toward the door. He took off down the hallway, panting as he made his way to the group room, ignoring his mother’s pleas for him to stop. He came to a halt just short of the door, peeking through the small window and looking for her candy pink hair.

“Zayn please, just come here. I know it hurts baby but she’s really gone.” His mum sighed, small tears rolling down her cheek as she watched her son try to cling desperately to the faintest shred of hope.

“She’s gotta be here I know it!” Zayn insisted, pacing up and down the hallway in front of the group room. “Maybe she went to the bathroom,” he thought aloud and made his way around the corner to where the bathrooms were located. “Perrie, Pezza, Pez,” he called out, waiting for reply but receiving nothing but silence. “Come out here--Perrie!” he tried once more, his voice cracking a bit as the possibility of his mum being right started to weigh heavy on his mind.

“Hey Zayn, what are you doing down here?” Dr. Teasedale asked, poking her head out the door and watching him concernedly. “You have go back to your ward, you’re distracting the group!” she called out, gesturing down the hall.

“Where’s Perrie? She’s just gone out for smoke or something right Dr. T?” he rushed out, scrambling over to the door and giving her a hopeful look.

“Oh, just a moment.” Dr. Teasedale frowned, looking over at Zayn’s mum sympathetically.

“Zayn honey, let’s go back to your room okay?” his mum said calmly, rubbing his back with her palm.

“Not without Perrie,” Zayn snapped, pulling away from his mum’s comforting touch. “She needs to know that I’m here,” he grumbled, starting to feel rather exhausted.

“She’s not here sweetheart, I’m so so sorry love, but she’s never coming back,” she affirmed, pulling Zayn’s rigid body in for a hug.

“That can’t be, this is all some mistake. She’s just late or something. She’ll be here in a bit. I just know it.” He faltered, his own eyes stinging with repressed tears as he slumped against his mum, burying his face in her shoulder and let her coo calming things in his ear.

There was a bit of a shuffling noise as a nurse entered the group room and Dr. Teasedale emerged. She gave Zayn’s mum a knowing look and gave them a moment before speaking. “Zayn, why don’t you and your mum come to my office?” she suggested, gaining a weak nod from Zayn.

“Come on darling, we’re going to get through this okay?” his mum encouraged, hooking an arm around his shoulder and leading him along the hallway behind Dr. Teasedale, Zayn shuffling as if he were dead on his feet, and maybe he was. Perrie was gone, not just for a few days, or even a few months, but forever.

***

“Liam, please come have a seat.” Dr. Flack smiled, a slight note of surprise to her voice as if she hadn’t actually expected Liam to show up. Which, Liam supposed was fair considering his last exchange with Andy ended in flames, literally. He stepped into the office cautiously, still a bit unsure what Andy’s angle was.

“Hey, thanks for coming Liam,” Andy mumbled timidly, his hands folded in his lap, giving off an uncomfortably formal appearance. There was a time when Liam would have greeted him with a fist bump or maybe even a hug, but not anymore. He sat down in the stiff leather chair next to him and settled on giving him a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Now, I want you boys to just pretend I’m not here,” Dr. Flack started, leaning back in her chair and giving them both a knowing look. “I’m not here to say who’s right and who’s wrong, but just to make sure you’re both heard, and this is a safe, healthy discussion,” she finished, taking a sip from her mug of tea to allow for silence.

“Andy, why are you here?” Liam sighed exasperatedly, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. Honestly at this point he wasn’t even mad anymore, the damage was done and he’d moved on, but he honestly didn’t understand what Andy wanted from him.

Andy shifted in his chair turning a bit so he was facing Liam and ran his fingers through his shaggy bleached hair nervously. “Honestly, because you’re my best mate and the way things ended last time just isn’t sitting right with me.” He finally managed to get out, his shoulders relaxing as if some invisible weight had been lifted.

“Came to ease your own guilt then?” Liam scoffed, rolling his eyes at lad he used to call his best mate. “Classic, never really cared much how I felt did you?” he grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ya know if you didn’t want to feel guilty, maybe you shouldn’t have fucked my girlfriend,” he quipped, cracking his neck and shooting him warning glance.

“Fuck off Liam, you know that’s a load of bullshit! Of course I care about you!” Andy growled, mirroring Liam’s closed off posture, his mouth set in a firm scowl. “Been mates since primary school haven’t we? And I came back here even after you threw me out. Do you honestly think I’d have stuck around through all the shit we’ve been through if I didn’t care?” He groaned, letting out a frustrated huff of breath at the end.

“Fair enough, but you’ve got a fucked up way of showing it.” Liam muttered through a clenched jaw. “Shall I give you a list of all the times you fucked me over?” He added, arching an eyebrow at Andy. “Well let’s see, there was that time you ditched my sixteenth birthday party because some bird invited you to a uni party. Then, there was the time I told you I was questioning my sexuality. You were the only one I told by the way, and you called me a part time bum pirate for about a month. Oh and I how could I ever forget the time you thought it’d be a laugh to get me drunk for the first time and then left me to pass out on my mum’s porch. Do I need to list off more for you?” he snapped, fingernails digging in the stiff arms of the chair. “Yes, I think I do. We can’t leave off the top of the fucking list. You slept with my girlfriend while I was in a psychiatric hospital getting treatment for the fucking disorder I’ve been struggling with my whole life. So yeah, tell me again how you care about me,” he finished cocking his head to the side with a sardonic smirk.

Andy squirmed around his in chair a bit, obviously feeling more than a little guilty. In a span of twenty years his little fuck-ups didn’t seem that bad but when they were laid out like that, in list and shoved in his face, well then yeah he did look like a shitty best mate. “No you’re right. I’m a prize douche, I’ve fucked you over loads of times and I can’t take that back.” He sighed, looking down at his lap and playing with his fingers nervously. “But you know what else you’re forgetting. That same asshole is the one that played ninja turtles with you in the waiting room before you’d get your shots for your kidney. He was also the one that gave you half of his sandwich when the bullies nicked yours off ya in grade 4. Oh and I stood in line with you for 5 hours when that one special edition comic of Batman went on sale, so you’d be the first to have it.” He continued with a fond smile in Liam’s direction.   
“Then I was there when your grandma died and I brought you McDonalds and beer until you felt better. You can call me all the names you want, Liam, but don’t you ever say I don’t care,” he finished, the ticking of the small clock on Dr. Flack’s desk the only sound in the room.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, hundreds of memories flooding him all at once, long days looking for turtles in the pond in his back garden, and late nights talking about girls and what sort of pranks they could play on his sisters. Fuck, it shouldn’t be this complicated. Andy screwed him over, that was that, end of friendship--or was it? “I just have to know one thing, why Danielle? Why did you sleep with her?” he finally managed to get out, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling loudly as he let the question settle.

“I didn’t know,” Andy replied weakly, his voice sounding pinched off.

“Know what?” Liam asked, opening his eyes to look over at his best mate.

“I didn’t know you hadn’t broken up, she told me you did. Came to my house sobbing and carrying on about how you broke her heart. Then next thing I know we were doing shots of tequila and I woke up with her in my bed,” he explained, the shame evident on his face, quite resembling a dog with his tail between his legs.

“So that’s it? Simple as that? Am I supposed to just forgive you?” Liam murmured, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. His head was pounding, the desire to punch Andy straight in the throat bubbling close to the surface, but then underneath it in some small corner of his mind there was a piece of him that wanted to work things out. Healing was hard, so fucking hard, the therapy was helping, most definitely, and so was Zayn--but yet somewhere inside him things felt off, he needed his best mate.

“No.” Andy started, shaking his head at Liam. “No, I don’t expect you to forgive me for that. I really have no excuse, what I did was shitty and definitely broke about ten best mate rules.” He frowned, letting out a long drawn out breath.

“But what about the rest? The good stuff? What if I miss that, what if I need that right now?” Liam stammered, not even sure if he was making the right choice in trying to salvage their turbulent friendship.

“Well I can try my best to be that guy again. I can’t take back what I’ve done but maybe we can try to figure out how to be nicer to each other,” Andy blurted out as if he’d been waiting for Liam to give him a window of hope.

“Okay, yeah. We could try that. I need all the support I can get right now.” Liam nodded, looking over to Dr. Flack to see if she thought it was a good idea.

“Well, sounds like you two got a lot to work on. But there’s definitely a sort of special bond that you share. I think it’s great that you want to work on it Liam. You’re really making progress and I’m very proud of you,” Dr. Flack praised, looking between the boys with a friendly smile.

“So yeah you can come visit again if you want. I’d like for you to meet my boyfriend, Zayn,” Liam offered shyly, unable to come up with a better way to come out to Andy in the moment.

“Boyfriend? Wow, so you did figure that all out then. Good for you mate!” Andy cheered, looking a bit bewildered but still genuine. “I’d love to meet him,” he added calmly, giving Liam a reassuring smile.

“Great. Well I’m off, I was kind of in the middle of something when you got here,” Liam rushed out, feeling sufficiently awkward and wanting to get out of the office before Dr. Flack grilled him in relationships between patients. “Bye Andy, see you later,” he muttered, getting up from the chair and heading toward the door.

“Oh hey Li!” Andy called out, stopping Liam in his tracks just as he had put his hand on the doorknob.

“I haven’t talked to Danielle since that day we left here,” he added, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Oh alright, that’s uh--that’s nice,” Liam replied lamely, unsure of what one was supposed to say in his situation. A thank you didn’t seem right and a fuck off seemed too harsh for someone he was trying to patch things up with, so he settled with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

***

Zayn sat on couch in Dr. T’s office, staring at the impressionist landscape paintings decorating the walls. They were swirling, chaotic, the brush strokes evident in broken lines and blurred images of water lilies resting calm waters. Zayn was sure that Dr. T probably liked them because they showed there was beauty in the chaos or some bullshit like that, but he couldn’t disagree less. There was no beauty, not now, only chaos, the words â€˜she’s gone’ resonating in his head.

“Zayn?” Dr. T called out, pulling an office chair with wheels out and scooting up in front of him. “Do you think we can maybe talk about this?” she asked, her voice smooth and calm.  
Zayn could feel his mum next to him, her hand on his back in attempt to make him feel a bit more at ease. But it wasn’t working; nothing was working, not without Perrie. She couldn’t be gone because it wasn’t fair! Not when Zayn was just starting to make things better with her. He mentally cursed himself for not hugging her more often, not telling her how beautiful she was, or that her laugh was one of the most contagious and adorable sounds he’d ever heard. “What’s the point?” he mumbled softly in reply.

He was met with silence, his mum sniffling softly at his side and Dr. T looking at him as if she were waiting for something, some sort of break through or insight. But Zayn had nothing more to say, everything just didn’t make sense right now. Perrie didn’t deserve to die, she was good despite her many slip ups, she had a kind heart and she meant well--Zayn knew she did. “How did it happen?” he found himself saying flatly, his voice sounding as if it were coming from outside his body, because this wasn’t happening, he wasn’t here, and certainly he’d wake up soon.

“She overdosed at home last night,” Dr. T started, her voice still quiet and even, as if she were talking about the weather. “It was an accident,” she added, as if that mattered, as if somehow that would make Zayn’s heart break a little less.

“Accident? Like oops I just accidently killed myself? That’s kind of an understatement,” Zayn grumbled, his fists clenching reflexively as he felt anger begin to take over.

“This happens sometimes, people get out of rehab and they forget that their tolerance is now much lower than before. So they take the same amount they used too but it’s too much,” his mum added, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

“So she just forgot that she’d gone a whole moth sober and decided what the hell, I’m gonna do some lines and pills too while I’m at it?” Zayn muttered, angry tears beginning to sting in his eyes. “She just gave up, just like that, after all the hard work she put in,” he rambled on, his jaw clenched, still not quiet able to understand why she would do this.

“Recovery isn’t easy Zayn, you know that,” Dr. T replied, reaching out and patting him on the knee.

Zayn wanted to scream because; of course he fucking knew how hard it was. The first week at Shady Pines was absolute hell. Without the euphoric high cocaine gave him, he was left, for the first time in five years, to sit with the agonizing pain and general hallow feeling of depression. It was miserable and terrifying, being left to the devices of his morbid thoughts, his desire to cut, to bleed, to feel something, anything. But he couldn’t there were no razors, no lines, no joints, nothing to help him escape the overwhelming darkness that was his mind. So saying recovery wasn’t easy was putting it lightly. But he couldn’t fight her on it, he didn’t want to, his mind fuzzy and his body tired.

“I wanna go to the funeral,” he whispered, the word funeral leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What did you say sweetheart?” his mum cooed, stilling her hand on the middle of his back.

“I- want- to- go- to- the funeral,” he repeated a bit louder this time, clearing his throat at the end.

“Do you think that’s a good idea Zayn?” Dr. T asked, her face scrunched up in concern. “I mean--you are doing very well, but this is sort of intense,” she added, sitting back in her chair and eyeing him cautiously.

“Yeah, I have to. I need to be there--I need it to be real. I still keep hoping this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up. I think I need what’s that word you lot are keen on around here? Closure--I think I need closure,” he resolved, his face blank as he tried desperately to keep it together.

“Okay, if that’s what you think you need, we’ll give it a go.” Dr. T nodded, giving his mum a look to check in if it was okay with her.

“You can stay at home for the night love, it’s tomorrow--I’ll go with you,” his mum offered, putting her arm around his shoulder and hugging his stiff body as best as she could.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea Patricia. What do you think about that Zayn?” Dr. T inquired, cocking her head to the side as she looked at Zayn.

“Sure. Yeah, that’d be alright,” he mumbled, still feeling a bit disconnected from everything, as if the entire world were a buzzing blur around him and he was standing still.

“Okay, I have to get some forms for your mum and your medication, why don’t you go back to your room and pack.” Dr. T smiled weakly, standing up to get some forms for a home visit from her desk.

Zayn nodded mindlessly, his body moving on autopilot and shuffling toward the door. He was going home, but not in the way he’d hoped. Not for Doniya’s graduation from uni, or Waliyah’s dance recital, or even for Safaa’s first footy game, but for a funeral. Not just any funeral--Perrie’s funeral.

***

“Oh, uh I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” Louis cringed as Liam rounded the corner on his way to Zayn’s room. “He’s a bit out of sorts,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“How so?” Liam replied, confused how Zayn’s mood could have shifted so dramatically since this morning. He hoped that everything was alright, that Perrie hadn’t said something to upset him.

“I dunno, he came back in our room looking like a zombie and started shoving things into his suitcase. So I asked him what he was doing and he just absolutely snapped at me. He started shouting at me and told me to get out. I think he’s going home,” Louis rattled off, obviously still a bit flustered by the sudden outburst on Zayn’s part.

“Home? Like for good?” Liam faltered, his eyes growing wide in panic. “He can’t be! He’s not ready!” He tensed, looking down the hallway toward their room.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what’s happening. Maybe you’ll have better luck getting through to him.” Louis shrugged and gave Liam a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Just--I’d be careful, he can be quite scary when he’s in a mood,” he warned, shaking his head a bit.

“Well that’s something we’ve got in common isn’t it?” Liam laughed halfheartedly, making his way down the hall despite Louis’ warnings. He opened the door carefully, peeking his head in and finding Zayn tearing through the clothes in his dresser and stuffing them in a duffle frantically. “Zee, babe? Are you alright?” he called out, stepping in the room but not going in too far so Zayn could have his space.

Zayn’s posture instantly stiffened as he shoved the drawer shut with an exaggerated slam. “You,” he growled and turned to face Liam, his eyes wild and his entire body seeming twitchy as if he were ready to attack at any moment. “This is all your fault! You distracted me! I should have been there for her instead of fooling around with you!” he shouted stalking across the room toward Liam and backing him into a corner.

“Zayn, what are you talking about?” Liam sputtered, thoroughly confused and a bit frightened to be honest. He’d never seen Zayn like this and he didn’t like it. He was all dark eyes and defined veins sticking up under his skin. His jaw was clenched tight and even though Liam was bigger than Zayn by a wide margin, he was intimidating to behold, seeming to be running on pure rage.

“Perrie, she’s dead and it’s my fault because I spent more time with you when she needed me,” Zayn grumbled, stepping forward and giving Liam’s chest a firm shove that did little, since Liam was nearly solid muscle. “She needed me, Liam, and I failed. I should have been there for her.” He continued, taking a step back seeming to realize that Liam wasn’t going to respond to his attempts at scaring him off. “I should have fought them when they wanted to send her home. She wasn’t ready,” he groaned, walking back to his bed and sitting down on the edge a bit defeated.

Liam sighed audibly, relieved to see that Zayn had at least calmed a bit. He wasn’t mad; he’d experienced this sort of reaction first hand. It was the same reaction he had to his grandmother’s death about three years ago. He had spent a good two days screaming at his sisters and shoving his dad off every time he tried to comfort him. “Oh babe, I’m sorry,” he started, walking over and rubbing his back soothingly. “You know that’s not true though. You were so good to her and you did everything you could,” he added, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t make much of a difference right now but hoping that maybe he’d remember them later.

“Yeah well, it obviously wasn’t enough,” Zayn barked, pulling away from Liam as if he’d just jabbed him with a hot poker. “You didn’t know her, Liam, you have no right to say anything!” He groaned, getting up and pacing the room agitatedly. “Just shut up!” he yelled, covering his ears and hunching over slightly in pain.

“Hey, hey, shhh--calm down Zayn,” Liam soothed, standing back and watching Zayn, a bit helpless.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. She’s dead Liam and I could have stopped that. I fucked up,” Zayn snapped, pulling at his hair and biting down on his lip harshly, obviously trying to hold back angry tears.

“You didn’t fuck up, you didn’t know. You had no way of knowing that this could happen,” Liam tried, reaching out and trying to grasp at the hem of Zayn’s shirt.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Zayn warned, smacking Liam’s hand away, his voice beginning to crack a bit. “Get out!” he screamed, sounding so lost, so broken, as he continued to pace aimlessly.

“Okay, fine. I’ll leave but whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll be waiting,” Liam said calmly, wishing there were some way he could communicate to Zayn that he loved him, that there was some way for him to ease his pain at least a little bit. He didn’t know Perrie, but it was obvious that she meant a lot to Zayn, and Liam knew what it was like to lose someone you love. He knew how unreal it felt at first and how infuriating it was to accept that they were never coming back. He also knew that eventually, when the time was right, that Zayn would break and when that time came he wanted him to know that he’d be there. He’d hold Zayn while he cried or while sat in silence, whatever he needed to feel whole again.

Liam turned to leave, noting that someone had been watching. There was a pretty woman with brown hair and kind amber eyes leaning against the doorway. The structure of her cheeks unmistakably similar to Zayn’s, his mum, the woman had to be his mum Patricia.

“Thank you, Liam.” The woman said pulling him into a loose hug. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I’m Patricia, Zayn’s mum,” she added once she pulled away, leading Liam into the hallway just outside the door.

“Yeah, not exactly ideal--but I guess is there ever really a perfect way to meet.” Liam shrugged, leaning against the cool wall and scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “As you guessed, I’m Liam. Zayn and I are dating, or at least I think we are. I dunno anymore.” He sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers and staring at the bland tiled floor.

“Hey,” Patricia started, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I promise he really doesn’t mean it,” she started, giving Liam a kind smile, which was too much like Zayn’s and it kind of made Liam’s heart clench a bit. “He really loves you--I know it. He talks non-stop about you and how wonderful you are. This is just--it’s really hard for him,” she reassured, her voice even and calm.

“I know.” Liam nodded, looking up and giving her a halfhearted smile. “Just please, take care of him for me.” He sniffed, his eyes welling up a bit. “A-And when he’s ready, remind him that I love him,” he stammered clenching his eyes shut to stop himself from crying.

“I will,” Patricia replied simply, pulling Liam in for another hug, a bit firmer this time. “He just needs a few days, that’s all. He’ll come around, I promise. He’s just going to need lots of love and patience and I think you’re good for it,” She whispered, rubbing Liam’s back in gentle circles.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good for it. I love him too you know. He’s really great,” Liam affirmed with a watery laugh.

“He is, isn’t he? I raised him to be that way.” She beamed, a few small tears slipping out despite her smile.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Malik,” Liam croaked as he pulled away from her hug.

“Nice to meet you too Liam. You’re a lovely young man. I fully expect you to come for a family dinner once you and Zayn are better,” Patricia said turning to go back into Zayn’s room. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, until next time.” Liam sniffled, giving her one last friendly smile, making it round the bend of the hallway and just past the nurses station before collapsing into tears.

***

Going home doesn’t feel much like going home, not this time. Zayn barely acknowledged his sisters who were waiting at the door; even Doniya had made the trip back from uni to give him a sympathetic pat on the back. He gave them all forced hugs under his mum’s watchful eye, wanting to make her believe that he was doing much better than he let on. His dad however, seemed to see right through it all and whispered a “You okay?” in his ear before he pushed him away and went to lock himself in his old bedroom.

It’s funny, he thought to himself as he looked around, nothing had changed--all of his posters were still hanging on the walls, faded by sunlight, and the same old blue duvet covered his twin bed. And yet--everything had changed, hadn’t it? He flopped over onto the bed and remembered his last visit home, the one just before he went to Shady Pines. It was just after he had told Perrie it was over, a particularly bad trip sending him to the hospital for three days. His mum had brought him home and nursed him back to health, and then it all went sour.

Zayn had made a bad deal once, what seemed like a lifetime ago. He remembered the man’s face as he saw him stomping up the walk toward his mum’s house. The man had been unable to pay him and Zayn was in a bad spot. He needed money to pay the rent or he and Perrie would be kicked out of their flat at the end of the week. So naturally he decided to rob the place--a liquor store a bit too close to their flat.

He didn’t think much of that night, burying it deep in his subconscious and clouding his memory with any hard drug he could get his hands on. That was until he was there, walking up to his mum’s house, undoubtedly armed. He remembered stumbling down the stairs, his only thoughts being, pleasepleaseplease don’t let mum or Safaa open the door. This was his fault, he was the one that fucked up and now his family was in danger.

It all happened so fast, the door opened, the man yanked him out into the yard, and then it was all pain, excruciating pain. He blacked out after that, only waking up once he heard his mum’s voice pleading for him to “Please wake up.” He was rushed to the hospital again, for the second time in two weeks--this time with stab wounds to his stomach. It was then once he was lucid and off the painkillers that his mum decided he needed help.

Now here he was months later, still feeling like just as much of a fuck up. Except this time it was Perrie he’d failed. He wasn’t there for her, he didn’t protect her, there was some part of him that knew she wasn’t ready to go home. But instead of standing up for her, he let her go.

He wasn’t sure at what point he finally fell asleep, but he woke up still fully clothed, with a photo album containing pictures of him with Perrie spread out on the bed. He looked down at page it was open to. Perrie looked back up at him, unblinking, her eyes bright, mouth open in one of her famous laughs that came all the way from her toes. She was so vibrant, always buzzing with energy, and not only because of the coke. She was vivacious by nature and that’s what Zayn loved about her. Maybe her methods of coping were a bit unorthodox but it was her, brilliant, colorful, Perrie that pulled him through some of his darkest times.

“Zayn, hey you up darling?” his mum called from outside the door.

“Yeah.” he called back, his voice sounding small and almost foreign.

“Made you some coffee. Can I come in?” she asked cautiously and Zayn’s heart swelled a little because no matter how many times he fucked up or how many shitty things he’d done, his mum was always there with a cup of coffee and kind smile.

“Yeah, come in.” He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Morning pumpkin.” She smiled, sitting down on the bed by Zayn’s feet with a tray carrying coffee and a plate of toast, balanced in her hands.

“Sorry,” Zayn mumbled, not even sure what he was apologizing for, everything he supposed.

“No sweetheart, don’t be sorry. It’s okay to grieve and everyone does it differently,” his mum cooed, setting the tray down and kissing his forehead.

“I know, it’s just you’re so kind to me. You put up with all my bullshit and you always end up getting the worst end of it and I-I’m sorry. I love you mum. I may have a fucked up way of showing it, but I love you,” Zayn managed to get out, a lump building in his throat.

“Hey, hey, hush love. Of course I love you! No matter how big you get or how many times you run into trouble, you’ll always be my baby,” she whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “She really was beautiful wasn’t she. Had a smile on her that one, she absolutely lit up the room,” she mused, running a finger along a picture of Perrie.

“Yeah, she was lovely. A bit messed up but still lovely.” Zayn sniffed, biting his lip as looked back down at the picture.

“What about that Liam? He’s quite lovely too. Wanted me to pass along that he loves you.” His mum smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“He did? Oh god I’m glad I didn’t scare him away. I love him too you know. He’s so sweet and he deserves so much better,” he rambled on, remembering how rude he’d been to Liam yesterday.

“Oh no, don’t say that. He understands, he knows you didn’t mean it. I’m sure he’ll be waiting for you as soon as you go back.” Her face fell as she noted that he would be going back.

“It’s not so bad you know? I kind of like it there. I’ve got mates, like proper ones that like me for who I am, not because I can score them some coke.” He chuckled weakly before letting out a long sigh. “I’m getting better. It won’t be much longer now,” he added, his eyes watering a bit.

“That’s great. You know we’d be happy to have you back here. You can have your room,” she offered, hugging him around his waist.

“I dunno, there’s too much history here. I think I need to start fresh, maybe find my own flat.” He shrugged, the thought feeling a bit much for him at the moment. “But yeah, that’s a ways off. I just wanna make it through today.” He breathed out, picking up his coffee and taking a sip, the warm liquid soothing him instantly.

“Alright. Well, I’ll leave you to get showered and dressed. I had your suit pressed in case you wanted it for today, it’s in the closet.” His mum smiled, getting up from the bed and slipping out the door.

***

Zayn didn’t wear his suit, it didn’t feel right. The fabric was stiff and constricting--Perrie would have hated it. Instead he settled on a black pair of jeans and the soft black leather jacket Perrie had bought him at a vintage market. His mum didn’t say a word, just gave him a gentle smile and ushered him to the car.

The day was bleak, gray and overcast, quite appropriate Zayn thought as he gazed out the window at the familiar streets of Bradford. He zoned out somewhere between his old primary school and the shop he used to buy cigarettes from when he was 15, only shaking from his daze when his mum tapped his shoulder.

“Here were are, dear,” she said softly, gesturing to the old stone church--which Perrie would have also hated.

The church was a full of groups of people with morose faces milling about. Some of them were familiar, old schoolmates, people from their partying days and others less familiar, probably family members. Zayn had never really met her family, Perrie’s parents having decided that he was ‘bad news’ and not really ones to invite him round for Christmas--hell they rarely invited Perrie round for Christmas.

The only decent person in Perrie’s family, as far as Zayn was concerned, was Jonnie. He was a bit of a drunk, but Zayn was a recovering coke addict so who was he to judge? Most of all Jonnie was nice to Perrie, he looked out for her, taking her in when she got too thin or needed a place to ride out a bad high. For all his faults, he was a good brother, a caring brother, and Zayn respected him for that.

“Zayn?” A voice called out from behind him, sending a shiver down his spine. He knew the voice belonged to Alexander, Perrie’s dad, and arguably the least fond of him. He wouldn’t go so far as to say Alexander hated him, but that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“Yeah?” Zayn replied weakly, waving his mum off with a look that said ‘I can handle this myself’.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Alexander gritted, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Zayn’s outfit a judgmental eye.

“Same as you, I’m here to say goodbye to Perrie,” Zayn defended, pushing up the sleeves of his leather jacket subconsciously.

“No you’re not. You said goodbye to my daughter a long time ago when you left her and broke her heart,” Perrie’s dad huffed, his fists clenching into the fabric of his suit coat.

“I was sick, I had to. She was sick too, I know you don’t wanna admit it but she was.” Zayn sighed, as if he’d been over this before a million times.

“Yeah and whose fault was that. You brought her down, with your drugs, and your piece of shit mates,” Alexander snapped, the corners of his mouth twitching in anger.

Zayn bit his tongue to hold back the fact that it was in fact Perrie that had introduced him to cocaine when he was struggling through his first photo shoot. “Don’t make this about me. Not today,” he grumbled, pursing his lips in frustration.

“Tell you what, you say your goodbyes and then you get the fuck out of here!” Alexander shouted, drawing the attention of almost every eye in the room including his mum. “You’re a fuck up, a waste of space, she deserved better than that!” he yelled his hands dropping to his side in tight fists.

“Excuse me,” Zayn’s mum interrupted, stepping between them. “You will not talk to my son like that,” Patricia growled, giving Alexander a warning glance.

“Huh, have to have your mummy fight your battles? You’re pathetic, just go through the line and get the fuck out of my life!” Alexander muttered, his face red and contorted in such a way that looked incredibly unnatural.

Zayn made to take a step forward but his mum caught his sleeve whispering a soft, “It’s not worth it,” in his ear. He let his posture go limp and followed his mum to the viewing line, the words ‘pathetic’ and ‘waste of space’ echoing in his head as he looked down at Perrie lifeless form in the casket. She was dressed in white--yet another thing she would have hated, her make up bland and colorless, her candy floss hair the only thing left that felt like her.

“Goodbye Pezza. Until later,” he mumbled, taking a pink rose from the floral arrangement beside her casket and tucking it in her hair because she would have loved that.

***

“So yeah, she’s gone I guess?” Liam finished with a heavy sigh, having run through yesterday’s event with Nick as they lay in their beds. He hadn’t heard from Zayn since he kicked him out of his room the day before and he was feeling a bit anxious. He’d spent the entire night, once he’d stopped crying, arranging his clothes by fabric and then color, until he passed out on his bed.

“Shit,” Nick breathed, propping himself up against the headboard and shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry mate, that’s rough. But I mean at least you and Andy are alright?” he offered, not really sure what the right thing was to say in this situation.

“Oh yeah, well kind of I guess. I still think he’s a massive prick but--I now know that I can’t change that.” Liam chuckled, looking over at the clock, it was ten thirty and Zayn still hadn’t come back. “Do you think Zayn will be okay?” he thought aloud, a nervous knot twisting in his stomach.

“Yeah--well no, not right away,” Nick sputtered, looking over at Liam sympathetically. “I’m not going to lie and say he’ll go right back to his old self. These things take time, grieving is complicated.” He finished with a shrug.

“I know, I just--I hope that this doesn’t set him back. He was doing so well,” Liam stammered, getting up from his bed to rearrange his toiletries compulsively.

“Well he is Zayn, he’s tough. He’ll make it through somehow, luckily he’s got you to fret over him.” Nick laughed, as he watched Liam shift the shampoo and toothpaste containers around.

“Or I dunno, maybe you could ask him,” Zayn called out from the doorway, looking slightly worse for the wear. He was standing in the hall with his duffle bag still in hand, still dressed in the leather jacket and black jeans he’d worn to the funeral.

“Zee!” Liam squeaked, knocking a bottle of mouthwash on the floor and all but tackling Zayn with a strong hug.

“I’m just gonna go sit in the lounge. Later!” Nick called out, realizing that his presence was probably not needed. “Bye,” he tried again, still gaining no response from the pair embracing in the doorway and finally pushing them aside so he could leave.

“Babe, are you okay? How was it? Did you sleep? Are you hungry?” Liam rambled on, stroking Zayn’s cheek with back of his hand.

“Shh come on Li. Let’s get inside,” Zayn whispered, pushing Liam back into his room and shutting the door. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you the other day. I didn’t mean it,” He mumbled softly, dropping his bag on the floor and kissing Liam gently.

“It’s okay,” Liam started, lips moving against Zayn’s naturally, his entire body finally relaxing. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, licking into Zayn’s mouth with shaky breath. “Wha-what do you need?” he asked sweetly, pulling back from the kiss and looking into Zayn’s eyes as he rubbed his thumb along his cheek.

“You,” Zayn replied simply, pushing Liam back onto his bed and positioning himself so he was straddling his hips.

Liam scrambled to regain control of his mind, yes he wanted this--he wanted it so badly, but not like this. Zayn wasn’t in the right state and who knew if he was even thinking clearly. “Babe.” He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down Zayn’s thighs. “Babe, are you sure this is a good idea?” he murmured, resting his hands on Zayn’s bony hips.

“Please Liam, just let me have this,” Zayn whined, tugging at the hem of Liam’s shirt eagerly. “I need this, I need you, I need to feel something,” he rambled, his words coming off as desperate and connected to each other.

“Okay.” Liam nodded, finding himself unable to say no to the pleading look in Zayn’s glassy amber eyes. He knew that this probably wasn’t the best way for Zayn to grieve; it was more a means to distract. But as a man who spent the past twenty-four hours organizing and rearranging he didn’t feel he was in a position to tell someone how to cope.

With Liam’s muttered consent Zayn let himself go, lifting Liam’s shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor messily. “Thank you,” he mumbled into Liam’s skin as he attacked his neck with wet kisses. “Love you,” he whimpered, his hips grinding down against Liam’s recklessly.

“L-Love you too,” Liam stuttered, his hips bucking up on their own accord, to meet Zayn’s teasing motions. “N-Never done this was a bloke,” he admitted, blushing slightly as he tugged at Zayn’s shirt, pulling it off clumsily.

“S’okay, I want you to fuck me anyway,” Zayn hissed, kneeling over Liam as he pulled his joggers off with practiced precision. He lowered himself back into a sitting position on Liam’s thighs, pressing hot kisses all over his chest and his stomach, fingers digging in his hips firmly.

“What happened here?” Liam asked, noticing the three diagonal scars on Zayn’s stomach, running his fingertip over the raised purplish skin.

Zayn flinched reflexively, looking down at the scars with a slight frown. “Does it matter?” he said softly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of Liam’s boxers. “Some other time yeah? Not now, please Liam,” he murmured, trailing his lips along Liam’s stomach, stopping to nip at each of his hips gently.

“No, n-no, doesn’t matter,” Liam sputtered, his eyelids fluttering closed with a soft whimper. “Scars are beautiful,” he blurted out, biting his lip as he opened his eyes and scanned the tattoos scattered all over Zayn’s torso. “These are beautiful too,” he added, tracing the outline of the black heart on his hip with a finger.

“You should get one, you’d look so sexy with tattoos,” Zayn purred, grazing his hands over Liam’s biceps. “God, you’re so fucking fit,” he muttered, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe that Liam was real.

“Take your jeans off,” Liam commanded, his eyes widening, surprised by his own sudden bossiness. “I-I mean, can you please take your jeans off?” he amended, a light blush gracing his stubbly cheeks.

“Li--you know you don’t have to be polite all the time?” Zayn laughed softly, getting off the bed and pulling off both his jeans and his pants all in one go. “Saving some time.” He grinned, bending over to dig through his duffle on the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” Liam groaned, his eyes nearly popping out of his head at the sight of a very exposed Zayn in front of him. “Stop that, get back over here,” he whined, fingers grasping at the sheets, his painfully hard cock tenting his boxers.

“Calm down, I’m just getting some lube. I may be a bit of a masochist but not that much,” Zayn huffed, finally finding the small plastic bottle at the very bottom of his bag.

“Oh right.” Liam flushed, feeling like a bit of an idiot. He’d never had sex with a bloke before, and in the gay porn he’d seen they always kind of skipped that part. Probably not sexy, he told himself.

“Okay, off,” Zayn commanded pointing down at Liam’s boxers.

Liam nodded shakily in acknowledgement, pulling his boxers off--not quite as gracefully as Zayn had, and tossed them aside. He let out a sigh of relief as his cock sprung free from the confining fabric, the cool air feeling really good.

“Fuck! So it is true!” Zayn mumbled under his breath, climbing back on the bed and staring at Liam’s hardened length in awe.

“What’s true?” Liam asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, feeling totally out of the loop.

“It’s just you’re massive. I thought Nick was just bullshitting when he said you were nearly ten inches but--shit, that little gossip monger was right for once.” He gawped, taking Liam in his hand and giving him a few firm tugs. “Amazing,” he groaned, leaning down and licking the bead of precum that had formed at Liam’s tip.

“Glad to know the entirety of the ward is--uh,” Liam started to say, cut off by a sudden moan. “They’re all--fuck,” he tried again struggling to find words because Zayn was touching him. “They’re all aware of my size,” he finished, finding a moment of clarity.

“No offense Li, but shut up.” Zayn chuckled, crawling up to press their lips together in a bruising kiss, their exposed cocks brushing against each other, and providing just enough friction to tease Liam.

Liam was barely aware of the fact that Zayn had picked up the lube as he was completely lost in the kiss, enjoying the roughness of Zayn’s lips and the slight taste of himself on his tongue. It wasn’t until Zayn was moaning into his mouth that he realized he was fingering himself. “Fuck,” he cursed, moving his mouth to suck on Zayn’s collarbone with the intent to leave a love bite behind.

Zayn stretched himself out as quickly as he could, eager to have Liam inside him. The slight stinging of his fingers wasn’t enough; he needed more, needed to get completely lost in Liam. He pulled his fingers out, deciding he was prepped enough and shifted so he was hovering just over Liam. He lowered himself slowly, letting the tip brush against his rim for a moment, quivering in anticipation. “Liam,” he whispered, bracing his hands on his chest, dull nails digging into his skin as he sunk down onto his cock.

“Zayn,” Liam cried out, resting his hands on his hips, his thumbs already leaving small purple marks behind.

“Shh, don’t wanna get caught,” Zayn whispered, rocking his hips in slow even motions to start out with.

Liam nodded pathetically in acknowledgement, his hips bucking up to meet Zayn’s careful motions. “Oh god, more, please,” he keened, biting his lip harshly to hold back a pleasured moan.

Zayn was quick to oblige Liam’s pleas, lifting himself halfway off his throbbing cock before sinking back down with a small pleasured gasp at the way Liam filled him up completely. He eventually picked up a steady rhythm, rocking his hips quickly, adjusting his position so Liam hit him in just the right spot.

“Shit,” Liam hissed, the sight of Zayn bouncing on his cock almost enough to make him loose it right then. It’d been so long since he’d been laid and Zayn was so much tighter and hotter than any girl. “Baby, not g-gonna last long,” he warned, only feeling a bit embarrassed.

“S’okay. Want you to come for me. I want to feel it, I want you,” Zayn muttered, his voice sounding gravely and completely wrecked. “L-Liam, oh god. Touch me,” he panted, grappling for Liam’s hand blindly and guiding it to his own neglected length.

Liam took Zayn in his hand, tugging at his cock in the way he liked to be touched himself. He’d never wanked someone else off but he was too far gone to be self-conscious. “Z-Zayn, fuck. So good,” he sputtered, struggling to put words together. He rubbed his thumb over the bead of precum that had collected at the tip, using it to smooth out his strokes.

“Y-Yeah, just like that,” Zayn encouraged, feeling himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. “Li!” he cried out, spilling all over Liam’s hand and onto his own chest a bit. He bit his lip as he continued his relentless thrusts hoping to help Liam reach his own release.

“ZaynZaynZayn,” Liam nearly chanted like it was a mantra, his stomach muscles contracting in a familiar tight feeling. Without any further warning he came inside Zayn, his vision going white for a moment and everything around him disappearing, everything but Zayn’s voice in his ear murmuring sweet nothings.

***

“So uh, that was--amazing, fantastic, actually. But kind of weird,” Liam rambled as he wiped Zayn’s chest clean, still basking in the after-glow a bit.

“Weird? Oh no, how so? Like I think I’m not into dudes weird?” Zayn rushed out, placing his hand over Liam’s.

“No, oh Jesus no! I’m definitely into you and I loved having sex with you,” Liam affirmed, brushing his hand over Zayn’s cheek. “No what I meant is, it felt sort of like you were just trying to avoid talking,” he finished, giving him a knowing look.

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk.” Zayn huffed, rolling over onto his side and facing away from Liam.

“Well maybe I think it’d be better if you did,” Liam replied, rubbing Zayn’s back in soothing circles.

They sat like that for a while, the two of them silent. Liam didn’t want to push Zayn any further for fear that he’d snap and Zayn didn’t want to speak for fear that he’d never be able to stop. A few minutes passed when finally Zayn couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you think I’m a fuck up?” he started, still facing away from Liam.

“Zee, no of course I don’t,” Liam rested his hand on Zayn’s back. “What would make you think that?” he asked and gave his hip a reassuring squeeze.

“Perrie’s dad called me that. He said it was my fault that she’s dead. That I ruined her life, dragged her down--and well maybe that’s true.” He sniffled, tucking his hands under the pillow.

“That’s not true, she had a problem too Zayn,” Liam whispered, lying down and wrapping his arms around Zayn’s waist.

“But, I didn’t help her. I j-just went along with it. I let her down. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her--and I-I can’t fix that,” Zayn whimpered, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

“Shh there, let it out it’s okay,” Liam said softly, resting his chin on Zayn’s shoulder.

With that Zayn devolved into a fit a sobs, muttering incoherent phrases, Liam only catching bits of words such as “why” and “it’s not fair.” He held Zayn tightly, staying quiet and letting him say whatever he needed too.

“She’s dead,” Zayn finally said, still gasping for breath as he tried to stop his tears. “She’s gone, she’s not coming back, it fucking sucks,” he croaked, turning over and burying his face in Liam’s chest.

“I’m so sorry babe, I’m sorry you’re hurting this much. Why don’t you sleep for a bit. You’re probably worn out. Let me take care of you,” Liam soothed, pulling the thin hospital blanket up over their bodies.

“O-Okay.” Zayn nodded, closing his eyes, entire body still shaking slightly. “I love you,” he whispered, fingers grasping at Liam’s sides.

“I love you too. Now sleep,” Liam replied calmly, only relaxing once Zayn’s breaths evened out into soft snores, allow him to drift off into his own dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm so SO sorry. xx


	11. Squirm and Turn like a Skeleton Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There but for the grace of god go I,” Louis responded.

Louis stood across the corridor from the room he shared with Zayn, staring at the closed door with his arms crossed. Harry was planted slightly behind him, foot tapping repeatedly.

“What do we do?” Harry murmured, learning forward to place his chin on Louis’ shoulder. Zayn had refused to exit the room—or his bed for that matter—for the entire morning. Louis leaned backward slightly, tucking his spine against Harry’s chest and pelvis.

“Fuck if I know. There but for the grace of god go I,” Louis responded. “Not the coke thing, but like. You know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He turned his head to the side, glancing at Harry out of his periphery. “Also, being in a locked ward kind of precludes us from going anywhere, mate.”

“More’s the pity.” Harry tucked a hand around Louis’ hip. “I’d like to take you on a date, sometime.”

Louis snorted. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“So you’ll think about it, then?”

“It’s a ways down the road.”

“Just think about it.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

“You never do.” Harry planted a kiss on Louis’ temple. “I’ve got therapy, love. I’ll find you later.”

“Of course you will.”

***

Harry met with Dr. Higgins every other day in a given week—Dr. Higgins sometimes worked weekends—and he unpacked his issues willingly. He unpacked everything with the genuineness he was known for, answering questions as though he had nothing to hide. He made eye contact and he smiled and he no longer sat on his hands during session. He talked of his bodily symptoms, his “somatizations,” his twitchy inability to sit still.

He told his doctor about his grandmother’s death, his sister’s upcoming marriage, his parents’ divorce, his ex-boyfriend, his ex-girlfriend, his first break with reality. He described in detail the ways he had felt he was a god.

“I wondered if I could fly, you know.”

“Oh?”

“But I couldn’t, right, because mania lies.”

“It does. We’ve talked about.”

“And I—” Harry paused, brows furrowed slightly. “I wonder even if I’m making up stuff in here. Like even with therapy and my meds stable like and, you know, the rest.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’m making up being in love with Louis.”

“Do you think you’re making it up?”

“I don’t think so, but sometimes I—sometimes I get mixed up. But I’ve loved him for ages now and I don’t think I’m making it up, I don’t think I’ve dreamed him—but he thinks I’m making it up? He doesn’t believe me.”

“How does that affect you two? The way you interact?”

“Oh, erm.” Harry paused. “I—spend a lot of time convincing him? That I love him?”

“That’s how it affects you?”

“That’s how it affects us. The way it affects me…”

“Yes?”

“It makes me feel more stubborn. When he claims I’m wrong.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“I know I love him. But he makes me doubt it, and that makes me feel—those words make me feel stupid. And childish.”

“That’s a good way to phrase it, Harry, that was a good way to externalize your experiences without blaming him. Though you feel these reactions deeply, you don’t have to attach them to him.”

“And it makes me feel sad. Like my love isn’t worth anything.”

“Sad? Explain sad to me.”

“Why aren’t I enough? Why aren’t I good enough to be believed? Why am I unworthy?”

“So _sad_ contains those questions, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you re-word it for me? Without using questions.”

“That—makes me feel unloved. That my love is unworthy and I am too.”

“That’s a very understandable feeling, Harry. It sounds very painful, though.”

“Um. It can be.”

“I hate to bring this up, but you know Dr. Hubbard recommends against relationships between patients on the unit, correct?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Would you like to speak to that at all?”

“Like how?”

“Do you understand why he rarely recommends it?”

“Are you saying it’s a bad idea?”

“I’m asking for your thoughts on the matter.”

“I mean. I can see how people might—fuck one another up, like. If they were both in a bad place.”

“Right.”

“But we’re getting better. I’m getting better, I am.”

“Sure. But you understand.”

“Do you think he and I shouldn’t involved?”

“I didn’t say that, Harry.”

“Are you implying it?”

“My opinion isn’t the most important one in the room right now.”

“You’re evading my question.”

Dr. Higgins sighed. “I suppose I am. Is it important for me to answer this question for you?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?”

“You’re my therapist.”

“I am.”

“And you—you’re smart and you know what you’re talking about and he clearly doesn’t trust me with this. So I need your advice, and I need someone to trust. Who has, who has everyone’s best interest at heart. Someone with a good perspective. Someone not getting lied to by his own head every day.”

“I’m not living your life, you know. You are. My understanding of it isn’t your understanding of it, though it’s based on what you tell me. I have a very different perspective than you do, because I can only bring my experiences and expertise to the table. I’m not you, Harry.”

“That’s the point.”

“I can’t tell you whether it’s a good idea to be with him or not. I don’t write an advice column or the like. But I understand your need for connection, to commit to something or someone. And I think it’s a sign of growth, to tell you the truth. That you’re working through your symptoms and understanding how they impact you without letting them control you.”

“As best I can, I guess. Mania’s kind of—hard to get out from under.”

“Of course. And that’s where your medications augment the situation, absolutely. They help with the brain chemistry and we help negotiate the rest.”

“I suppose I want your opinion because—I don’t want to mess him around. If that’s what you think I’m going to do. He can’t have that, not again. Not from me. So if you think I’m going to fuck him up, I need you to—you know, to tell me. To make it sink in. Beneath the psychosis.”

“You’re not psychotic, Harry.”

“You’re missing the point of what I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to come off as obtuse. But I am wondering why you’re letting his emotional well-being trump yours in this situation. Not that you’re necessarily doing that, but you are discounting the potential impact of all of this on _you._ Are you not?”

“I can handle it. If he’d be worse off with me, I can handle staying away.”

“That’s very noble of you to say, but is it true?”

“Why are you acting like this? Can’t you just give me a straight answer? It’s not that hard!”

“Harry. Are you sure you would be able to handle staying away from him?”

“If he needed me to. I would do anything for him. He doesn’t even have to ask.”

“Are you sure that’s healthy?”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s worth it. He gives me someone to focus on for the better. I’m—it’s not like I’m trying to get healthy for him, but I get to remember that in staying healthy I can get closer to him. He makes it even more worth it.”

“And you want me to validate that for you?”

“I—you make it sound petty. When you put it like that.”

“And?”

“I just—I want it to work, and I need encouragement sometimes.”

“Harry, I’m sorry. I like you, but I’m not your friend. I’m not meant to act like your friend.”

“Are you saying my friends are wrong? That encouraging me is a mistake?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying. But I’m here for your betterment, not to make you _happy.”_

“What if what makes me happy helps to make me better? What then?”

“Do you think being in a relationship with his is going to fix you somehow?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m trying to show you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m not saying you should or shouldn’t be with him. I’m saying your health is not inherently tied up in him.”

“I know it’s not.”

“Do you though? At your core? Or do you think that, in getting healthy, you’ve somehow earned his love in return?”

“I think I’m done for the day, please,” Harry murmured, eyes on the ground, voice small and hurt. “I’ll see you in two days. Thanks.”

He padded out of the room, feet soft on the floor of Dr. Higgins’ office and the hard floor of the corridor. He walked deeper onto the ward, noting the door to Zayn and Louis’ room was gaping wide, no one inside. He frowned, stopping short. He turned and walked to the dayroom, spotting only Niall sitting by himself at a table. Harry walked in quickly, draping himself over Niall’s back gratefully. He roped his arms around Niall’s neck.

“Hi, Harry,” Niall said, flipping through a deck of cards lazily. “How’sit?”

“I don’t know.” Harry clung tighter.

“You’ve got like a spider-monkey thing going on here.”

“Are you my friend?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. What are you doing?”

“Teaching myself to count cards.”

“You are? Why?”

“Dunno. Could go to Vegas and win big, yeah?”

“How’s it work?”

“You pay attention to the ratio of face cards to others, figuring out the chances of hitting twenty-one. I can show you if you want.” He shuffled the deck deftly.

“All right.” Harry detached himself from Niall’s neck and sat down, mesmerized by the rapidity of his shuffling. “Am I a bad person?” he asked, sitting down hard in an empty chair.

“Of course not. I don’t think. Though my morality’s probably a bit skewed. I think I permanently screwed up my brain by binge-drinking at age twelve.”

“Could be.”

“Do you think you’re a bad person?” Niall placed the deck on the table facedown, momentarily giving Harry his full attention.

“I don’t know what I am.”

“I don’t think you’re so bad in the grand scheme, really? I mean. I’ve met some, you know, bad, mean-eyed, hard-nosed guys, right. When you look like me and you go out picking fights, looking to get knocked about, well. It brings out the bad side of people. And I think you’re all right, really. Don’t play fast and loose with your fists or anything.”

“Feelings, though?”

“You can’t help how someone else feels. You can just be kind in your intentions. If you fuck up, you apologize and explain. The rest is about them.”

“That’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. But so are most things. Like sobriety, for instance.”

“Seems like it’d be easier in here, though, than out there. No access or anything. And you’re away from your old habits or whatever.”

“Sure. Doesn’t mean the cravings are gone by any means.”

“What helps?”

“Oh, it varies day to day.”

“Flirting your way into the nurses’ good graces?”

Niall huffed out a half-laugh. “That’s actually more stressful than anything, if I’m going to be honest. I’m a lot more impressive a beer or two deep.”

“She doesn’t seem to think so. She likes you now, like this.”

“Who?” Niall asked lightly, picking up the cards again. He dealt two to Harry and to himself, eyes fixed downward.

“You know who.”

“Oh, her. Well you know, she has terrible taste. It’s a thing I’ve noticed.”

“Oh hush. Did you tell her your wang was good luck and all she needed to do to win the lottery was rub it?”

Niall guffawed, throwing his head back. “No, but that’s a good one. I’m gonna have to steal that, I think.”

“Be my guest.” Harry finally looked down at his cards. “So tell me how to do this, exactly?”

***

Louis escorted Zayn to two different group therapy sessions before depositing him carefully in Liam’s arms. After watching them enter Liam and Nick’s room, he entered his room, which was dim in the late afternoon light. He collapsed onto his bed, frowning when the pillow crinkled beneath his head.

He extricated a small piece of paper from beneath it, giving it a small squint. Scrawled on a folded piece of notebook paper, Louis read _One two three four five. Find them all. xx, H_

Louis blinked. He stood up slowly, moving the pillow off the head of his bed, but nothing else sat beneath it. He pulled open the top draw of his dresser and found a folded scrap of paper with _three_ scrawled on it. He set that atop his duvet.

One sat on his windowsill. Two was beneath his bed. Four was taped to the back of his door. He found number five last, wedged in the swtichplate of his light. Piecing them together in order, he read:

 

_one_  
Stick with Me

_two_  
Don’t drop me down or out of sight;  
don’t let me sleep alone at night.  
Don’t miss my smiles in the halls or  
let me put up thicker walls.

And

_three_  
I’ll love you like the setting sun;  
I’ll love you at a breakneck run.  
I’ll love you when all’s said and done.

 

_four_  
I’ll love you like a dying light  
I’ll love you with a wince and bite

_five_  
I’ll love you still and through it all—though  
I doubt that you could break my fall.

 

 

He collected them carefully, placing them in a small ordered stack. He opened his dresser again and placed the pieces beneath his folded shirts. Finally he sighed, exiting the room.

Finding a small knot of people in the dayroom, he sat down next to Nick, who was peering down at a long banner that took up the length of the table.

“What are we doing?” he asked, tone awkwardly genial.

“Making a banner for the social thing or whatever. You know, when families visit to check and see if anyone’s found the Mark of the Beast on our foreheads yet.” Nick tightened his grip on a bottle of glue, still intently staring at the paper before him.

Louis snorted. “I honestly assumed you were an evil changeling that got swapped out of his basinet for a good baby.” He took the cap off a marker and began cross-hatching inside the W of _Welcome!_

“No, I sprang fully-formed from my father’s forehead. That’s when the trouble started.” Nick set the glue down. “Pass me the pink glitter, will you?”

“God, you’re camp,” Louis muttered, though he passed the glitter over.

“My mother loves glitter, I’ll have you know. She finds it soothing.”

“You’re mother’s mental.”

“No, that’d be me. Obviously. And you, I suppose.” Nick splashed glitter on top of the glue he’d already laid down.

“Why are they letting us do this? Inmates running the asylum or something?”

“I think it’s rather a calming activity, really. Color and lines and glue and sparkly shit. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.”

“You ever think that being a doctor is really just about guessing what will fuck us up the least?”

“Every day,” Nick agreed. “Thankfully this time it’s glitter. I can totally get behind glitter, you know? Peppy.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, Romeo, spill. How’s the love life?”

Louis snorted. “Do you realize how unwise it is to compare a morbidly depressed person to a suicidal character from a frequently maligned piece of fiction?”

“Hey. Romeo and Juliet is a fucking masterpiece. Don’t even pretend you didn’t look to Mercutio for tips about being a raging homosexual.”

“Didn’t ever.”

“Liar. I know you’re the drama type. Don’t even play.”

“Whatever. Why do you even care about my love life?”

“I’ve got a lot invested in it.”

“Oh my god. Are you taking bets on my relationship? Oh my god you are. You’re a mental gambling addict.”

“Well, technically, I’d be taking bets on your _lack of_ a relationship. But no. Good idea though.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Just indulge me in some petty gossip, all right? It’s not like I’m getting any.”

“You probably could be if you put in any effort. Do you even know how often internalized homophobia leads people to attempt suicide? I swear to god half the nutters on the adolescent ward were made crazy by the shit the world puts on them for being gay.”

Nick blinked rapidly. “That’s quite a little diatribe, Lou. But if you think I’d stoop to fuck a teenager, you’re an idiot. I’d rather fuck a literal bin full of rubbish.”

“Don’t forget the bin liner, eh? Wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

“Take your own advice and don’t forget the lubricants either. Also please jump on it soon because your boy is looking thirsty.”

“Please, I don’t _own_ him, he’s not _my boy.”_

“Well, decide who he is or who he isn’t, because the little twink was getting eyed up on the patio last I saw.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, mate. Have a look on the smoking patio, yeah?”

Louis paused. “If you’re fucking with me, I’ll end you.”

“My glitter and I swear on our pretty little hearts.”

“Ugh.” Louis scrambled to his feet, working his way down the corridor carefully. He left the building and entered the patio, wariness heightened in his chest.

He stopped short when he spotted Harry stretched out on top of one of the wooden picnic tables, nearly naked except for small yellow shorts. He was face-down, his head pillowed on top of his folded arms.

“Fuck.” Louis swallowed, eyes rapt on Harry’s lithe back. The day was warm, sure, but—but fuck, this was uncalled for in every manner. Louis went nonsensical and wordless, backing up until he hit the brick wall with his hips.

Before his eyes, Harry shifted, seeming to snuffle slightly as he dozed in the afternoon sun. His spine curled up and down as he settled against the wooden top of the table. His tan skin—how was he tan, fuck, they were in a psych ward and Harry was _English_ for fuck’s safe—glistened strangely in the fading light. Louis could see just the edges of Harry’s tattoos as they littered his upper arms, skittering here and there in black ink and grey shade. Louis’ breath caught in his throat, choking him slightly.

“Um,” he said into the air of the empty patio. He swallowed as he saw Harry turn his head toward the door, sleepy and curious. “Um. I got your poem. Right. Thanks!” Louis fled the patio without looking back.

“You’re welcome!” Harry called, amusement obvious in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my darlings! As ever, we thank you SO much for reading and sticking around with us during this story. We love it so much, and we appreciate every page view, comment, critique, and criticism.  
> My tumblr is:  
> musiclily  
> and my co-author's tumblr is:  
> chicagocuppycake  
> and we'd both love to hear from you, no matter what you have to say!   
> We love your pretty faces and your kind words xx


	12. Feels Like a Coming of Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family day brings a special visitor and a challenge for Liam.

“So family day huh?” Zayn started, his head resting on Liam’s chest as they cuddled in the impossibly small hospital bed.

“Yeah.” Liam answered quietly. He’d been dreading the day ever since it was announced. He had been at Shady Pines for nearly a month with no visits from anyone, aside from Andy and Danielle. He knew his mum had been busy with work and his sisters as well, they had never been the closest anyway. But his dad, he had at least expected his dad to visit once. 

Liam was a bit hurt actually that the one person he had thought he could count on, hadn’t come through. That was until now, his mum had phoned him last night to let him know that she would be out of town with his sisters but his dad would be coming.

“My family isn’t coming, on account of me just being home for the--”Zayn trailed off, still unable to talk about Perrie’s funeral without his heart breaking all over again. “Well you know.” He finished, nuzzling his face into Liam’s chest.

“My dad is coming.” Liam said after a moment of silence, his voice sounding shaky and a bit pinched off. “I mean, I think he is. Maybe?” He trailed off, his head thumping back against the fake wood headboard.

“Is that a bad thing?” Zayn questioned, tilting his head up so he could look at Liam. “I thought you and your dad got on well?” He added, a bit confused given what little bit Liam had told him.

“Yeah, we do. I mean we did--that was before I uh lost it and well, ended up here.” Liam fumbled, not exactly sure how to explain the situation to Zayn.

“Oh, sorry. I guess not everyone is good with this kind of thing.” Zayn tried, gesturing to the room around them.

“Yeah, suppose not.” Liam sighed, going quiet and just holding Zayn close. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that his dad didn’t know about them. He was afraid of putting any more strain on his family than he already had. But now, it seemed Zayn was the one thing keeping him stable and he was pretty sure he wanted him to be around in the long run. That meant having to explain to his parents that he was into blokes these days.

“Well no worries Liam, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Zayn comforted, tilting his head up and pressing gentle kisses along Liam’s square jaw. “Your dad will come around, in his own time. You just have to show him you’re still the son he loves, only better. You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you.” He cooed, running his fingers over the scarred skin on Liam’s arms.

“Thanks, that means a lot. Really, you have no idea.” Liam sighed, his heart sinking in his chest. He had to figure out this whole coming out thing. He could stand his dad being a bit upset or mad at him. What he couldn’t handle was losing Zayn, not now when he was just starting to find what he was looking for, real unconditional love.

***

Zayn had gone off to his individual counseling session thirty minutes ago and Liam had yet to move. He’d been lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly how one goes about coming out. The trouble was, he was coming up blank. He was completely clueless as to how he’d even begin to explain his sexual revelation to his dad.

“Am I gay?” he thought aloud, trying to wrack his brain to figure it out. Sure he’d liked having sex with Danielle well enough, but sex with Zayn was infinitely better.

“Having a gay panic, mate?” Nick chuckled as he walked into the room and sat on the end of Liam’s bed. “It’s a bit late to be questioning after you’ve already fucked a bloke innit?” He added, giving Liam’s knee a gentle pat.

“Shut it Grimshaw, you know it’s not all gay and straight,” Liam defended sitting up in his bed and tucking his knees to his chest. “Sexuality isn’t all black and white. I could be bisexual, or pan or whats it.” He trailed off, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Pansexual,” Nick corrected and gave Liam a friendly smile. “And relax mate, no one is asking you to label yourself,” he added in a soothing tone.

“Well no, but my dad is coming to visit and uh--he doesn’t exactly know that I’m dating Zayn. I want to tell him, I really do!” Liam rushed out with a huff of breath. “Like, I think I proper love Zayn and I want to be with him once I’m out of this place. He’s made me really happy and, fuck I’m so scared I’m going to mess it all up. I want to tell my dad about him,” he rambled on, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back frustrated tears.

“Easy now,” Nick hummed, scooting up and sitting next to Liam. “Breathe, in and out,” he instructed, waiting for Liam to take a deep breath before carrying on. “Sound like you might be ready to come out.” He smiled, wrapping his arm around Liam.

“Is that what I should call it? I mean suppose that’s what it is. It just doesn’t feel like it to me. I feel like I mean, I love him and that’s all that matters. I dunno if I fancy men in general or just Zayn,” Liam explained, wringing his hands with worry.

“That’s it then! Just look him in the eye and say it, Dad I’m a Zaynsexual,” Nick teased with a barking laugh.

“Fuck off Nick! If you’re so clever and cool about this, how’d you come out?” Liam jabbed, shaking his head at Nick in annoyance.

“Well it was a long process, one that require lots of soul searching and meditation,” Nick started, scrunching his eyebrows in mock concentration.

“Really?” Liam inquired, thinking that maybe for once Nick had something insightful to say.

“Fuck no, my mum walked in on me sucking off my first boyfriend. So I guess I sort of sprang the homo on her. Surprise your son is a raging cockslut. Went over quite well, she was so mortified we didn’t really have to talk about it.” Nick cackled, running his fingers through his quiff coolly.

Liam huffed out a disgruntled sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fat lot of help you are,” he said, leaving the room with a roll of his eyes.

He ran into Harry sitting in the day room, doodling on a piece of scratch paper. “Um. Haz? Can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Course, mate. Not doing anything of importance.”

“How--that is, how did you come out? Of the closet, like?”

Harry chuckled. “Settle in, mate, you’re in for a ridiculous ride.” Liam sat down at the table near Harry, peering at him curiously.

“I kind of always knew, right, you know? Rattling around in the back of my head was the knowledge that--you know, it was blokes for me, end-all. But I was raised by a single mum mostly, and then I had my sister to look up to, and I just really didn’t want to disappoint anyone. So I just kinda kept quiet about it. Not that I thought they would mind! But it was a bit about me not wanting to worry them or make things harder than they were. Already.” Harry inhaled deeply. “And then my sister was dating this bloke Johnny--I couldn’t have been more than twelve, even, it was silly. Way before my first manic break. But I had the most insane crush on her boyfriend, and when Gemma told me about it I kinda ran straight to my mum and almost cried myself to sleep. I--kinda couldn’t take that information back, could I?”

“Suppose not,” Liam mused.

“And they were fine with it, really. Mum said she suspected, because that’s kind of the way mums are, and my sister just chuckled at me and let it go. No one’s really commented on it since, eh?”

“It--it was that easy?”

“Liam, babe. You’re gonna be fine, you are. You’re still the same person, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, uh--yeah, I am. Thanks, Harry.” Liam shuffled to his feet and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie..

“You’ll be fine!” Harry called as Liam left the day room. “Promise!”

He sighed. While he found Harry’s sweet, it wasn’t altogether reassuring, especially not as far as Liam’s current situation was concerned. So he knocked on the door of the room that Louis and Zayn shared, hoping he would find Louis inside.

“Hey ho, Leemo, what’s it?” Louis slouched against the doorframe, the very picture of casual attention.

“Right. So, how did you come out of the closet?”

Louis pursed his lips, considering this. “Which time?”

“You came out more than once?” Liam asked, breathless.

“Oh, Liam. Come on in, yeah?” Louis waved an arm vaguely and backed out of his doorway, into the room.

“Is this gonna be bad?” he asked in low tones, brows furrowing.

“Not all of it. Sit down.” He gestured to Zayn’s bed, perching neatly on his own. “So you’re planning on coming out, then? Anything to do with family day?”

“Um. Yeah. Gonna tell my dad, at least. See how that goes.”

“Good lad. Let’s see, then, back to me.” Louis flopped onto his back, jouncing the mattress of his bed. “I started playing footie when I was, like, I dunno, first starting puberty, and I assumed that everyone else had thoughts like I did. But that no one talked about it. That maybe it was just a big secret everyone kept.” He sighed, pillowing his arms beneath his head and leaning against them. “Turns out that was wrong, eh? Not the point, I suppose.”

“No.”

“In the end, though, it’s an old story. I fell for my best mate, and we started--well we started things up. He wanted to keep it a secret, and I went along with that because I’m a fool.” Louis licked his lips. “I broke things off when I realized he wasn’t going to come around any time soon--when instead he was calling _people like us_ names in front of our other friends, as if that was okay. I broke things off only to have him call _me_ those things. In public, amidst laughter.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Learned who my real friends are, innit.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Louis gave him a wan smile. “I know you are.”

“So, was that--the first time?”

“Yeah. Yes. I got myself a proper not-arsey boyfriend during, what, Year Twelve, and he was--well, I didn’t deserve him, to be frank. He was out, and he asked if I was ready for all that, the whole she-bang. And I was sick of playing it straight, so I officially came out to my remaining friends and family, and left it at that.”

“How did you do it though? How did they react?”

“I just told my mum that I had a boyfriend and I introduced them the next day.”

“That was it?”

“Yep. And when he and I took to holding hands in public, my friends got with the program right sharpish. Anyone who gave me a funny look, I told to fuck off.”

Liam frowned. “I’m--not sure I can do that.”

Louis gave him a gentle smile. “You’d be surprised what you can do when it comes down to it. It’s a matter of them seeing through the societal bullshit or not. And maybe you give them a little time to adjust but after a bit it’s just--they either love you or they don’t. And you have to love yourself enough to surround yourself with only the good people, you know?”

Liam blinked rapidly, nodding as he made his way to the door.

“I’ll be here for you no matter what, you donut, and so will Zayn. Fretting won’t get you anywhere.” Louis called out after Liam, and as the door shut Liam wanted to believe him.

***

Zayn had been here before; he was no stranger to the sinking feeling in his bones. Liam had avoided him all day, ducking in and out of rooms without so little as a wave of acknowledgement. Once again Zayn was dumb enough to fall for the pretty straight boy, the one that could only love him when it was convenient.

The weight of this realization sat heavy on Zayn’s heart, making all his nerves feel raw and frayed at the ends. He was coming undone, everything he’d tried so desperately to grasp at was slipping away, Liam was slipping away. He wondered for a moment if this was meant to be his lot in life, a temporary stop over for wayward hearts, ones that had grown to weary to carry their own burden. He was a reprieve, a momentary break in the madness, not an end goal or something to long for.

To be quite blunt, Zayn was fucked. He had taken to the back patio for a smoke, after Liam had passed him for the fourth time today with those sad brown eyes. The ones that spelled finality, it was ending, they were ending.

Zayn gazed up at the unusually cloudless sky, his smoke coming out in effortless rings. He was lying on his back on the stiff picnic table, hoping the slight nagging pain in his back would distract him from the constant ache gnawing at his chest.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.” Liam’s voice cut through the eerie quiet of the patio.

“Funny, because I could have sworn you’ve been looking right through me all day,” Zayn scoffed, sitting up on the table and swallowing thickly as he took in Liam’s sallow complexion.

“I--uh, I’m sorry?” Liam apologized, confused by the sudden change in Zayn’s demeanor.

“If you’ve come to break if off with me, please cut right to it. Don’t be kind, it’ll be much worse if you’re kind,” Zayn replied, stubbing out his cigarette on the tabletop.

“Break it off? No, oh god no! Far from it!” Liam exclaimed, pulling Zayn in a tight hug and breathing in his familiar tobacco-y scent.

“What? Why have you been avoiding me all day then?” Zayn mumbled, his face smushed against Liam’s warm chest, ear resting just over his rapidly beating heart.

“I’m scared,” Liam admitted, his voice sounding smaller than usual. “This is all new to me and I’m terrified,” he added, looking down at Zayn with his wide doe eyes.

“What’s new, not the relationship bit? You were with what’s her name for years I thought?” Zayn replied, wrinkling his brow quizzically.

“Yeah I was. Not the relationship bit,” Liam clarified, pressing a kiss in the center of Zayn’s knitted brows. “The being in a relationship with a bloke bit. I sort of haven’t told my family about my uh--change in sexuality,” he finished, hoping Zayn wouldn’t be too upset.

“Change?” Zayn rolled his eyes smacking a hand against Liam’s chest. “Oh babe, it’s not a change. You’ve always had these feelings down there somewhere I imagine. Only, you never really had a name for it. Probably kept it to yourself?” he guessed, reaching a hand up to stroke Liam’s cheek.

“Something like that.” Liam shrugged, thinking back to when he first started to wonder if his fascination with his rugby teammate’s abs was more than a passing curiosity. “I just, I don’t know how to come out.” He sighed heavily, wondering if Zayn had struggled with the same thing at some point. “I mean, you seem to have done it well. Your mum is so supportive and I just, I don’t know how to get there,” he rambled on, his mouth feeling a bit dry.

“Well first of all, it takes a bit. My mum was always supportive but it took her a bit to settle into the idea that her son was bisexual,” Zayn explained calmly.

“So I’m bisexual?” Liam tried, seeing if he liked the way the label felt.

“No sweetheart, I’m bisexual. You have to figure out what you want to be called on your own terms. Or you could choose not to label it, that’s fine too. Sexuality is something deeply personal and it’s not for me or anyone else to decide for you,” Zayn corrected, looking Liam directly in the eyes sincerely. “I love you Liam, no matter what or who you are. That’s what matters. I’m in love with the person you are in here,” he trailed off, tapping on Liam’s chest over his heart, “And here,” he finished knocking on Liam’s skull with a soft chuckle.

“But how do I explain that to my dad?” Liam asked, still looking very worried.

“Just like that. Tell him you’re in love and that the person you’ve fallen for just so happens to be a bloke. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.” Zayn smiled, pressing a kiss to the birthmark on Liam’s neck.

“Is that what you did? Just sort of put it out there?” Liam shivered, Zayn’s lips leaving goosebumps behind on his skin.

“Pretty much, only I waited too long. I didn’t tell anyone until he’d already absolutely devastated me.” Zayn laughed humorlessly and pulled back to look Liam in the eyes. “He was different though. He didn’t want to go public, ever. Had a bad case of internalized homophobia,” he finished, bumping their noses together.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not like that. I want to be public. I want to take you home to meet my family. Fuck, I want a life with you outside of this madhouse,” Liam blurted out before connecting their lips in a passionate kiss.

“Okay,” Zayn mumbled between the long heated brushing of their lips.

“Hmm?” Liam hummed, connecting his lips to Zayn’s neck as he pushed him back on the table.

“I want that too. I want you.” Zayn breathed out before pulling Liam down and spending the next hour or so showing him exactly how much.

***

Liam’s insides had been twisted into a knot ever since his dad had stepped foot onto the polished linoleum of the ward. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, an innocuous ‘hello’ followed by a short tour of the winding halls that had become Liam’s home.

He waited until they were alone in his room before finally giving away to the tension that’d been building between them.

“Why haven’t you come to visit? I’ve been here for over a month now and I haven’t had even a word from you. Not even a phone call,” Liam quipped, standing with his back against the door as soon as it’d shut.

“I guess coming to visit you meant having to finally accept it,” his dad replied with a vague gesture to the room around them.

“Accept what?” Liam bit back, a mixture of anger and sadness pricking his eyes and making them water.

“That I failed.” Liam’s dad started as he sat down in the chair beside his bed. “That I wasn’t a good enough dad, that I let the world beat you down,” he carried on, scrubbing his hands over his eyes, looking tired and about ten years older than he really was.

“Dad!” Liam inhaled sharply, backing away from the door and making his way toward his bed.

“I should have known, Liam. I should have talked to you about it sooner.” His dad groaned regretfully, looking up at Liam with glassy eyes. “I was stubborn and proud and I ignored it, all the while you were suffering,” he murmured, seemingly in disbelief of his own actions.

“Dad--you can’t rightly take all the blame,” Liam breathed out, sinking down on the edge of his bed.

“No, Liam, listen, someday when you have kids you’ll understand. All you want to do is protect them, you want to keep them safe from the world, and when you can’t it’ll break your heart.” His dad sniffled, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked over the scars all over Liam’s arms.

“Dad, please don’t cry. I love you, and you did your best,” Liam murmured reassuringly, fighting to keep his own emotions contained. “There wasn’t anything you could do. This is something inside me,” he started, kneeling on the floor in front of his dad and resting a hand on his knee. “It’s not your fault. It’s my demon, I needed to face it myself.” He trailed off, looking up at the man he’d always seen as so strong, his heart aching as he thought about how he’d been able to break him just by being sick.

“And have you?” his dad finally spoke up, looking down at Liam with a small shimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, I think I have, but not on my own completely,” Liam replied, his face lighting up as he thought about Zayn.

“Oh?” his dad mumbled, looking a bit confused.

“Come on dad, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Liam managed to get out before he could change his mind. Maybe it was that simple, Zayn saved him, and he hoped that his dad would be able to see that.

***

Zayn had spent the better part of family day so far moping about the day room and pacing the smokers patio. He had just settled into his favorite spot on the hideous floral sofa, a tome of Edgar Allen Poe poetry spread on his lap, when he heard a soft cough behind him.

“Liam?” He smiled as turned around and was greeted by the sight of his boyfriend standing just behind the couch with a man he assumed was his father. Yeah, that had to be his dad, he thought to himself as he noted that he had the same deep brown eyes.

“Hey,” Liam replied timidly and lead his dad around to the front of the couch. “Dad, this is Zayn. He’s--well he’s sort of,” he tried to say, his voice shaking as he knew this was it, there was no going back once the words passed his lips. Liam was coming out. “He’s my boyfriend,” he finally finished, his voice sounding oddly confident considering he felt like he might throw up.

“Boyfriend?” his dad checked, looking at Liam seriously.

“Boyfriend,” Liam confirmed, causing Zayn’s whole face to light up as if he’d just been handed a fresh carton of cigarettes. “I’m, well I dunno what I am but yeah we’re dating and I kind of love him,” he finished and sat down on the couch next to Zayn.

“Okay.” His dad nodded and sat in a chair opposite the couch.

“Okay?” Zayn checked, fish-mouthing in disbelief.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t see why people fuss about things like this. So my son is in love with a bloke, no big deal. Mostly I’m just relieved to see him smile like that again,” his dad confirmed with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?” Zayn fumbled, still not processing how smoothly things had gone.

“Yeah, now tell me more about yourself. My son is pretty special young man and I have to make sure you’re up to snuff.” Liam’s dad chuckled, sitting back in the chair and making himself comfortable.

Zayn exchanged a small proud smile with Liam and squeezed his hand, before taking a deep breath and beginning to speak.

“Well, where to start? Basically, mental breakdown aside, I’m just a regular lad from Bradford.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In summary, smother me with a pillow. Just shadow time me. I have so many feelings about this chapter! Ahhhhhhhhhh


	13. Eat Me Up Like Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More family visits, during which some important realizations arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY Y'ALL.  
> So I've gone through and fixed the line-breaks, the page breaks, the random symbols, and the punctuation. If you see errors in this, please tell me.  
> THANKS for putting up with the annoyance and frustration of the glitch-deletion, and my co-author will be adding her chapter shortly.  
> LOTS OF LOVE!  
> xx  
> -musiclily

“This is a nice banner,” Harry said, voice low and honey-slow as he sat down beside Louis in the dayroom.

“Yeah, suppose. Nick started in with the glitter,” Louis responded with a shrug.

“Oh. But it’s nice, though.”

Louis nodded. “Your family coming?”

“Yeah, for a bit. I mean—they’re supportive, but they get, like. They get tired of being dragged in, sometimes. Not sure if that’s, like, what you feel.”

“I feel guilty about them coming in,” Louis clarified with a shrug. “Is that the same thing?”

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Maybe. I’m not really sure.” He picked up a near-empty bottle of glue and pressed the open tip against the banner, eyes squinting in concentration. “Mine are coming, though.”

“Mine too.” Louis nodded, pursing his lips. “Good that your family is coming in. You like them?”

“I do.” Harry’s fingers twitched at the bottle of glitter, flicking it sideways repeatedly.

“That’s good then.”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, like. Well. I’ve got some—well. Hypomania things coming on, and I guess. They just don’t need to see that, do they?”

“They seem like they want to see you however you are, as long as you’re safe.”

“But I don’t know how to be safe, outside of here.”

Louis swallowed. “I mean, I don’t know what your docs are saying, but—are you following their instructions and stuff?”

“Course.” Harry shrugged easily. “Course I am.”

“Then maybe you _do_ know how to be safe. Inside and outside of here.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re nicer to me than I am to me,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, babe, you’re nicer to me than anyone else is to me including myself,” Louis admitted with a small sigh.

“Great team we make.”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up on me now, please,” he countered, swallowing raggedly.

“No. Just wondering if you wouldn’t be right not to give up on me.”

“We all need people in our corners no matter the context, right? Like. Even if we’re not a—perfect forever family or some bullshit, you can be what’s good for me right now. And I can be what’s right for you. For now. And then we’ll see, yeah?”

“Why are you letting me off the hook?”

Louis shook his head vehemently, eyes on the paper in front of him. “Believe me. I’m not. You’re golden, babe. You’re going to be fine someday.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Blind faith in the power of good to conquer evil. You know, epic things. Mythology and love stories and poems that span the ages. All that.”

Harry grinned, bright and wide. “And here I thought I was the romantic one.”

“Well. You are. But you’re slowly dragging me over to your side of schism.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing,” Harry muttered, joy light in his words.

“It’s better than where I was.” He flicked a touch of glitter onto the banner, shrugging uncomfortably. “And maybe when we’re—like, out of here, it can be a real thing.”

“What, nothing’s real in here?”

“Not the way we need it to be. No.” Louis shook his head sadly. “Like I trust what you’re saying and I know I’m good enough here and now, but nothing’s perfect. Or permanent.”

“Kay, now you’re harshing my buzz, Lou.”

“That’s not what I—”

“So make up your mind, please. Either I’m good enough or I’m not. Either you’re good enough or you’re not. Are we trying this, or are you coming up with excuses?”

“It’s what I’m best at.”

“What is?”

“Seeing flaws in myself and letting it ruin everything.”

Harry shrugged, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. “Better look to that, then.”

“You’re too good for me, is the thing.”

“No,” Harry snapped. “The thing is, I’m definitely, definitely not.” He stood up so swiftly he nearly knocked over his chair.

***

Harry slumped around the corridors, head full of worries, until he nearly collided with Niall on his way out of therapy. “Hey,” Harry said brightly, settling his hands onto Niall’s shoulders and turning him around. “So what do you do when you want to drink and you can’t drink and maybe I shouldn’t be asking you since you’re an alcoholic in recovery but then maybe you’re the right person to ask?”

Niall nodded once and clasped Harry’s wrist. “This way.”

He led Harry down repeated corridors, turning corners and twisting around near-empty passageways. He stopped abruptly in front of a set of double-doors, dropping Harry’s wrist.

“This is the gym.”

“Yes it is,” Niall agreed, wrenching the door open. “It is indeed.”

“What are we going to do here?”

“We’re gonna teach you how to throw a legitimate punch.”

***  
Niall approached the punching bag in the gym corner, knuckles wrapped carefully and face set into a mask of calm. He only rolled his eyes when Harry began humming the Rocky theme song, ducking one hand out to swipe at Harry’s bicep.

“Pay attention, you gangly idjit,” Niall muttered, giving Harry a wayward smile.

“I am paying attention! Teach me your sexy boxing ways, my Irish friend.”

“Your flattering words mean nothing to me in here, you fiend,” Niall called out, shoving a quick fist into the punching bag.

Harry bounced around the room on the balls of his feet, throwing out random fly-by punches into the air.

“Your technique needs work,” Niall muttered, snapping his arms as they punched into the heavy bag. “So come over here and give it a go, yeah?”

He watched keenly as Harry pounded repeatedly against the punching bag, his shoulders and biceps working hard and fast. He called out momentary words of encouragement as Harry worked light on his feet, taking the bag from all angles. “Good job, pretty boy, good job. Keep at it. Work that.”

“Thanks, coach, I owe it all to you!” Harry said, thrusting out wildly against the fabric of the bag. He muttered something else as he flitted around, throwing punches.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Niall said at first before shimmying his hips momentarily. _“All I really need to understand is,”_ he sang, hips swinging, _“when you talk dirty to me.”_

He mimed snake-charming as Harry bent over in silent laughter, fists sitting on his thighs.

 _“Got you saved in my phone under big booty!”_ Niall added, laughter obvious in his voice even as he sang.

“Oh my god, leave off,” Harry responded with a loud chuckle, fists pounding into the punching bag.

“You love it, mate, you know.”

“Not sure what I love, really,” he countered, ducking as the bag shuddered underneath his fist. “Think I distrust the notion sometimes.”

“Uh, mate, you’re the most loving guy I know. If you can’t love, no one can.” Niall snorted.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry said, swiveling his hips seductively before throwing his next punch. “Whatever you say.”

“Are you trying to get me to complain about my love life right now, Haz, because I totally will. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I’d rather talk about your love life than my lack of one. Have at it,” Harry responded with a loose shrug.

“We’ll talk about that obvious lie in a moment, because I really need to vent about this shit for real, bro.”

“Have at it. Fight like a butterfly and sting like a bee, innit.”

“Yeah, sure. So on a scale of like, one to one-hundred, how bad an idea is it to pursue Cher?”

“Considering she works here?”

“Yep.”

“And considering you’re, like, a patient here who got court mandated.”

“Also yep.”

“In that case, I reckon, like, one-hundred.”

“What?” Niall crowed. “One-hundred is the worst on the scale!”

“Yeah,” Harry added darkly, shrugging as he wound up to hit the bag again.

“Shit. You’re kind of all-or-nothing, aren’t yeh?”

“Maybe fifty-five. Realistically, fifty-five.”

“Elaborate.”

“She could lose her job, Ni. Not saying you’re not worth it, because you’re fucking aces, but she could definitely lose her job. And maybe even get sued, you know? Like it’s an ethical shitstorm, what you two are doing. And I don’t want to rain on your parade, mate, because I want you to be happy, but there’s a lot to consider.”

“You are kind of.” Niall scrunched up his face. “Raining on my parade, I mean.”

“Sorry, I—I’m sorry.”

“Well and good, bro, but lighten up a little, maybe.”

Harry snorted. “That is probably the very first time anyone has ever told me that.”

“Doubt it’ll be the last, sad-sack. Doesn’t bipolar kind of require some, ya know, down bits here and there?”

“Wouldn’t know.” Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth again. “I’m nearly always catatonic during the down bits. Only remember the up bits.”

“Really?”

Harry shrugged. “S’different for everyone. But it’s always kinda shitty, innit.”

“Haz. I—I don’t really know what to say. Yer normally so, like, unflappable.”

“Facets, Nialler.”

“Like with diamonds?”

“Yes, just like that,” Harry said with a fond roll of his eyes.

 _“Shine bright like a diamond,”_ Niall belted, giving the bag a short series of punches.

“We should have a talent show here or sommat, mate. You’re good, you are.”

“What, at boxing?”

“No,” Harry snorted, rolling his eyes. “At singing.”

Niall sketched a bow with a loud laugh. “Sure to win that ladies, that is.”

“People do love a nice rocker vibe, yeah.” Harry shrugged. “Your family coming in, then?”

“Yeah, my brother’s stopping by with my nephew for a bit.”

“What, really?”

Niall raised an eyebrow at Harry’s confused tone. “Yes?”

“In a psych ward?”

“We’re not all hardened criminals, Haz. I’m not going to hurl a baby out the window.”

Harry frowned. “Our windows don’t open.”

“Exactly.” Niall nodded, speaking slowly as though to someone who might have a head injury. “This is kind of the safest place he could be visiting me, really.”

“Oh.”

“But your concern is, ya know, noted or whatever.”

“Wow, I keep screwing things up today, don’t I?” Harry muttered, tucking his legs up and sitting down hard on the floor. “Sorry. Tell me about your nephew. What’s his name? Little Craic?”

Niall cackled, tipping his head back with abandon. “Little Craic, oh my god, I need to remember that, put it on a damn onesie. That’s classic, that is.”

“Glad to entertain,” Harry added, flopping onto his back.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Haz,” Niall yelled, tackling Harry’s hips and trying to straddle him. “You love me, you want to kiss me, you want to marry me, don’t lie.”

“Get out, you lout,” Harry replied, scrabbling against Niall’s pelvis ineffectually. “Geroff!”

_“Never.”_

***

Niall sat in the day room with his brother Greg and nephew, bouncing Theo on his lap with a wide, overjoyed grin. He jostled and bumped Theo mindlessly as Greg filled him in on the things he had missed of late.

“I’m lucky, you know,” Niall said abruptly.

“Yeah?” Greg’s eyebrows knit.

“For all you guys, like, coming to see me. Not everybody here has that. And like—I kind of screwed a lot of shit up, like.”

“It was one little pub fire, I mean, really,” Greg replied, voice slightly strained in an effort to sound casual.

“I just mean thanks for something. This little guy’s a sight for sore eyes, at any rate.”

Greg nodded, gaze falling to Theo. “Da doesn’t—he’s not upset with you or anything, you know? Reckon he’s proud of you, really.”

“What, for getting help? Didn’t actually have a choice in that one, I guess, but okay.” He blew a loud raspberry onto Theo’s cheek, grinning at the delighted squeal that pealed throughout the room.

“Nah. But for sticking with it.”

“Not sure I’d survive prison,” he mused, pulling a goofy face at his nephew.

“We all know that’s not true. The Irish are naturally hardy stock, after all.” 

Niall appreciated Greg’s efforts to remain lighthearted, at any rate.

“Whatever you say, bro.” He looked just past Greg’s head and spotted Cher walking down the corridor, hair long and fly-away messy. He felt his cheeks flush.

“Who’s this, then?” she crowed cheerily, stopping short to peer down at Theo.”Lookit those cheeks, mate!” She crouched down slightly, though given that she was naturally short she needn’t have bothered much.

“This is my nephew Theo, and my brother Greg,” Niall said, cheeks still tinged pink.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” she answered regally, shaking one of Theo’s tiny fists before extending her hand to Greg. “I’m Cher. I’m a nurse here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Greg replied. He shot Niall a knowing smile.

They fell into an easy conversation about babies, Cher enthusiastic about all of Theo’s milestones, sharing her experiencing baby-sitting her younger cousins during her adolescence. Niall listened absently, distracted both by the bouncing Theo and also by the bitable look of Cher’s berry lips.

If Greg and Cher noticed, they didn’t say anything.

“He’s a natural born ladykiller,” Greg agreed, poking his son’s cheek gently with one finger.

“A family trait, no doubt,” Cher added, rolling her eyes.

Greg cackled, throwing his head backward. Niall and Theo, both used to his laughter, didn’t react, but Cher started slightly, cheeks flushing.

“Anyway, lads, I’ll let you get back to visiting.”

“Yeah, cheers,” Niall said, watching her retreat out of the day room.

“Oh, mate.” Greg shook his head and chuckled. “You are absolutely fucked.”

Niall’s nostrils flared. “Aren’t you supposed to stop swearing when you have kids?”

“I have no idea. Aren’t you supposed to get rid of your vices, not trade one for another?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t be adding excitement to your life by doing really stupid shite, bro. It’s kinda what got you here.”

“No, that was an accident.”

“The fire bit, yeah. Chasing the high? Not so much.”

Niall propped Theo on his chest and cleared his throat. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Good. Because this little one needs his uncle. And da’s already clearing the house of devil liquor for when you get out of here, yeah?”

“I’ll be all right, yeah. Work the program and follow the rules.”

Greg nodded. “Reckon we’ve all had some bad run-ins with an excess of pints. A clear-out could be good.”

“Yeah, bet Denise’ll get behind it anyway. She’s had nine months’ practice, innit.”

“You think you can do it? Keep doing it, when you get out of here?”

“S’pose I can do is try.”

***

Harry sat on the smoking patio, juggling his leg quickly so he nearly bounced the table apart. He sighed, realizing that the smoking patio was an appropriate place for him to think about his addition.

He was unequivocally addicted to Louis Tomlinson.

He experienced cravings like a smoker, itching fingers and twitching lips, tongue begging for a taste of something that wasn’t nicotine.

He ached for Louis in ways that shamed him, slightly, and scared him. He was constantly aware that he was seeking out Louis’ presence, like a wave always returning to shore. And like a wave, he had the power to tear someone asunder.

He had the power to destroy.

He didn’t know how to give up, but he didn’t know how to do things softly. He needed to muffle his actions somehow, needed to put a buffer on his emotions and temper his reactions.

Perhaps Louis was right to be tentative. Perhaps he was right to be scared.

***  
“Hey, little bean,” Louis’ mum greeted him as he entered a side visiting room.

He laughed quietly. “You’re gonna call me that til I’m old and grey, aren’t you?”

“Of course. You’re my firstborn, and I’m entitled.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” he agreed slowly, narrowing his eyes.

She opened her arms and he leaned down to hug her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he murmured into her long brown hair. “I’m good.”

“You—you seem good,” she agreed, as he pulled away to sit down across from her.

“Surprised?” he asked in careful tones.

“No, thrilled, actually. I didn’t know what to prepare for, I suppose, is all.”

“It’s—gotten easier, I suppose.”

“Has it?”

“Easier to talk about and think about and—change things. To realize that I’m not the evil person my brain keeps trying to tell me I am.”

“Bean.”

He shrugged. “It’s kind of helpful to say it aloud. Makes it sound even more irrational, you know?”

“Okay, if that’s how you feel,” she said slowly, shoulders hunching. “What else are you working on?”

“Understanding that I didn’t run dad off, inadvertently or otherwise.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “No, you didn’t. That had nothing to do with you, my love.”

“Right.” He nodded abruptly. “But seeing that and saying that are two different things. It’s—taken time.”

“What else, Lou? Is there other stuff that it’s helpful to talk about?”

He shrugged uneasily, considering his words carefully. “Not if it means hurting your feelings, mum. Some things are better addressed in therapy.”

She bit her bottom lip lightly. “Is there anything I can apologize for, bean?”

“No! No, it’s not—it’s not you, is the thing. It’s all about what’s tied up in here, with me,” he added, gesturing to my head. “And in my biology and in my, like, mental schemas. You’re a good mum.”

She shook her head gently. “I tried to be a good mum. That’s not always the same thing as _being_ a good mum.”

“You’re a good mum,” he insisted, voice getting louder. “The little ones are lucky to have such a good mum, just like I was lucky too.”

She smiled wryly. “Nice distraction technique, there. Everyone says hello, of course, and I brought some letters. The twins sent pictures.” Jay pulled a folder of paper from her purse, setting it on the chair next to Louis.

“Thanks.” He patted it once, fingers trailing against the edge.

“How’s everything else? Have you—have you been writing? That was always something you loved, before. You remember.”

“Uh, yeah, actually. Bits here and there.” He scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, smiling bashfully. “Some poetry, more than anything. Journal-type stuff too I guess.”

“Poetry, Lou? That’s great,” she responded, voice hesitant but hopeful.

“Yeah, just a little, you know. Not like before.”

“Still.”

“Haven’t really shown it to anyone except—except Harry. He’s. Uh.”

She waited.

“He’s a mate, I guess. Or something.”

She gave him a small smile before rolling her eyes. “‘Or something.’ That speaks volumes, Lou. Well, whatever you are, you seem—a bit happier, for real, this time. Not faking it with a bright smile, or, you know, a brash—what was it? _A brash war cry.”_

“Yeah, no. I.” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek. “I actually am. Yeah,” he added with a slow-burning realization.

“That’s all I want for you, little bean.”

“Well, I mean. I’m not perfect, am I. But I’m doing better.”

She brought her eyebrows together. “You were always perfect to me. It’s just nice to see you smile.”

***

Loud energy ticked away inside Harry every time he tried to meditate or do yoga, both of which were recommended as a way to calm him. Jogging (or, rather, awkwardly loping until he was out of breath) or boxing were really the only activities he could safely do, he came to realize, when the manic energy fizzed loudly below his skin.

He tried not to succumb to the upswings, tried to expend himself in safe ways. He tried to prove to himself that he could be worthy of something beautiful.

***  
“Bipolar sucks.” Harry slumped into a seat, starfishing his limbs out sideways.

Dr. Flack smiled at him and wrote something down on the notepad on front of her. “Oh?”

“I feel like I have absolutely no control over anything in my life, even my own behaviour.”

“Elaborate, please?”

“I can usually tell that the hypomania’s coming, and to be honest hypomania’s not bad. Not so bad. I get a lot of shit done during those times. But the mania—that’s scary. I can even see that I’m doing crazy things, but it’s like I’m detached from them, that they’re too powerful. Or I’m too, like, grandiose to bother interacting with the world around me, and I should just stay up on my cloud. But then I come back and it’s scary, like someone took over my body and made it do idiotic things.”

“Idiotic things?”

“You have my records. You know what I mean. Not just the broken bones and blowjobs in biker bars.” Harry huffed out a breath. “I just—don’t want to be doing that shit, but somehow it’s like I can’t do anything else.”

“And you said you can tell when the hypomania is coming? Can you tell when the mania is coming on?”

“Yeah. It’s faster though. Like a wave dumping over me and I can’t catch even a bit of breath.”

“That sounds frightening.”

“Very,” Harry agreed, nodding vehemently. “And I don’t want people to be afraid of me. My sister’s getting married, like, and she’s gonna have kids eventually, and I don’t want to scare them. I can’t just—I’d rather stay at like a facility or halfway house or something like that than scare them.”

“There are a variety of options at your disposal, you know. Not just this idea of self-imposed isolation.”

“I can’t—I just.” Harry shoved the heel of one hand into his eye socket, rubbing hard. “It seems so hopeless sometimes.”

Dr. Flack nodded slowly. “And it’s my job to help you see that it’s not. Because, Harry, it really isn’t. Some things fail here and there, and some medications don’t work, and some therapy styles aren’t meant for you. But statistically speaking, the right combination is out there, if you let yourself look for it. If you promise not to shut down and let mania rule you. Okay?”

Harry sucked in his bottom lip. “Well. You’re the doctor in this relationship.”

“While that’s technically true, that’s not the only reason you should trust me. The research backs me up. I’ll show you during our next session if you like.”

“Yeah. So, I won’t spend my old age wandering around with a shopping trolley full of baby-doll heads and empty wine bottles and stolen left shoes?”

Dr. Flack blinked at him impassively.

“Sorry, bad joke, I guess. Maybe I should stick to knock-knock jokes.”

“Knock-knock jokes?”

“I made jokes and inappropriate cultural references when I’m uncomfortable.”

“Are you uncomfortable right now?”

Harry juggled his leg. “I tried to go for a run to get out my energy and then I did some boxing, but I’m not really sure it helped.”

“Okay.”

“I think I’m on a hypo upswing, maybe?”

“All right. Let’s go have a visit with your psychiatrist, shall we?” she asked, standing up and gathering her materials swiftly.

“You’ll—you’re going to go with me?”

“It’s my job to advocate for your wellbeing, Harry, and sometimes psychiatrists can be a little…short with their time.”

“Ah.”

“To be frank, they have their heads up their arses when it comes to interpersonal relations, but they really do know medications, all right? That much I can assure you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Their meeting ended with a standing order for an as-needed sedative, and Harry slept for ten full hours that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: musiclily  
> my co-author's tumblr: chicagocuppycake
> 
> COME CHAT! We love to talk.


	14. I need you darling, come on set the tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes are on the horizon for Liam and Zayn. Cher takes a chance and prays that she doesn't get burned. (Haha puns)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's sooo good to be back! To all the loyal readers, I've missed you dearly and I've been dying to share this chapter with you! To all the new readers...hiiii. I'm littlemisscraic on tumblr and my lovely coauthor is musiclily, feel free to talk to us. We're friendly, I promise! xx

“Zayn, are you with me?” Dr. Teasdale’s voice cut through the quiet room, shaking him from his momentary trance. 

“Yeah, I just—I’m not sure I heard you right,” Zayn checked, his palms suddenly feeling a bit clammy. The reality was he had heard Dr. T just fine; it was just that he didn’t want to have heard her. 

“I said, I think you’re ready to start planning your transition. Like maybe phasing out of residential in about two to three weeks,” Dr T. clarified with a seemingly proud smile. 

_Transition._ The word sat heavy in Zayn’s mind as soon as it left Dr. T’s lips. Transition meant phasing out, it meant joining the real world again, and ultimately moving away from Liam. Zayn knew he was ready to live without twenty-four hour supervision and maybe he did in fact miss his independence a bit.

“But what about Liam?” he found himself saying, almost automatically, like he had no right to making such a big decision when Liam was still obviously struggling. 

“What about Liam?” Dr. T challenged, sitting up in her chair as if she’d been waiting to broach this very subject all session.

“Well, he’s still not—er he’s not well yet. He needs me. How can I even think about leaving? He’ll be alone and well he’s not very good at that. He needs me, Dr. T, he’ll fall apart once I’m gone,” Zayn rattled off, a wave of panic rising inside him. “No, I can’t—“ He trailed off, swallowing the large lump that had built in his throat. “I won’t go, not without him,” he finished with an enthusiastic shake of his head.

“And what exactly makes you believe Liam can’t go on without you?” Dr. T inquired, cocking her head to the side inquisitively. 

“Well, he’s sensitive, yeah? He takes things really hard and gets a bit emotional, then when he’s emotional he sort of—well he loses it. Goes into his rituals and all that, what’d you call it? Magical thinking?” He fumbled, fingers clutching to the arm of the leather couch anxiously.

“And so you think that he’s better off with you than in a safe, locked, and monitored psych ward?” Dr T wrote down a few notes on the yellow legal pad in front of her. 

“Um, when you put it like that, it does sound a bit ridiculous. I suppose that means he’s not really better yet,” Zayn conceded, his posture relaxing a bit as he started to figure out exactly where Dr. T was trying to lead him. 

Liam was too dependent on him and it probably wasn’t helping his progress. 

“Zayn, do you know what it means to be in a codependent relationship?” she questioned, setting down her biro and notepad. 

“Uh, is that like when two people need each other? Like they depend on each other,” he tried, looking up guiltily.

“Yes, you’re on the right track.” Dr. T nodded, leaning back in her chair as if she were settling in for a long talk. “See the thing is, Zayn, you are ready to leave. You’ve been here for just over a year. You’ve put in your time in therapy and you’ve come a long way in your eating habits. You’re actually doing quite well and I’m very proud of you,” she started, giving him a kind smile. “Honestly, at this point there’s really no reason why you need to be in residential treatment. I’m quite confident you’d do really well living in the community and phasing into outpatient treatment,” she carried on sincerely. “And yet, you don’t want to leave and not because you’re worried about yourself. What seems to keeping you here and a little—stuck, so to speak, is Liam.” She allowed for a moment of silence after. 

Zayn felt as if there wasn’t enough air in the room, like he needed to get out. Dr. Teasdale had never confronted him like this in a session, always one to give him an out as needed. 

But this time was different, and in less than five minutes she’d laid out his issues in so bluntly that it was almost painful to swallow. “Is this supposed to be therapeutic? Making me feel like this?” He bristled, his defenses on high alert. 

“Maybe, if you want it to be, it can.” Dr. T shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, if I want to? Aren’t you supposed to the therapist?” he grumbled, his jaw clenching tight.

“Sometimes I’m the therapist, but others you have to be your own therapist,” she replied calmly, not reacting in the least bit to his hostile words.

That was probably what Zayn admired most about Dr. Teasdale, no matter how tense things got in his sessions. She always remained as calm and unrelenting as the horizon. “So in order to finish with my treatment I have to distance myself from Liam? That seems sort of messed up, since he makes me really happy and I was in here for depression in the first place,” he muttered to himself mostly, doing his best to work through it on his own.

“Well, if you rely on him it’s sort of like trading one vice for another right?” Dr. T supplied, trying to help him a bit.

“So like, I’ve sort of replaced cocaine with Liam. Like he makes me feel good and helps me forget about everything,” Zayn started, gaining a nod from Dr. T. “But it’s different with him. I mean I can give him things in return, it’s uh—reciprocal.” He sighed, confused but attempting to stay calm. 

“Yes, and I’m glad you’re able to open up enough to let someone love you. That’s great and shows progress. Listen, Zayn. I’m not saying Liam is bad for you. He clearly makes you happy and you seem to really care for him. It’s just, maybe you’re not good for each other right now,” Dr. T suggested, looking at him expectantly.

“Er, I suppose you could have a point. I mean, it’s just I love him so much and I—I don’t want to lose him. That’s why I’m clinging so tightly, what with Perrie dying and that. I’m worried that if I walk away from Liam, he’ll be gone too. Not like dead, but maybe he’ll meet someone else or he’ll lose it all together, like his OCD will win.” Zayn breathed out, his body progressively relaxing bit by bit. 

“So really, part of this comes from a fear of loss that’s rooted pretty deeply in your core,” Dr. T thought aloud, closing her eyes for a moment. “You know that Perrie passing away wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”

“I dunno, I mean I know I didn’t make her overdose—she did that. But maybe if I would have been there for her sooner, it wouldn’t have happened.” Zayn shrugged, trying not to think on the subject for too long.

“I don’t think there is anyway of knowing, but the fact is that Perrie was an individual with her own issues and her own free will. Maybe she wouldn’t have overdosed then, but she still may have in the future. If a person wants to do something, they’ll do it, we can only really delay it. In order for Perrie to get better, _she_ had to want it. There’s nothing you or even I could have done.”

“I guess so.” Zayn sighed, feeling relieved and unsettled at the same time. “So Liam has to want to get better if he’s ever going to be better. It has nothing to do with me,” he followed, looking up at the ceiling as if expecting some sort of divine sign that things would be okay.

“Exactly!” she agreed, looking at the clock on the wall. “Listen, we’ve only got five more minutes together and I want to make this clear. I’m not telling you to break up with Liam. You two clearly love each other and I think it’s good for him to have someone that can be there for support, but not all the time. More of a hand to hold than a lifeline,” Dr. T lamented, giving Zayn a moment to process this information.

“Okay. I can do that. I’m all right with that. Be his boyfriend, not his therapist,” Zayn recited, trying out the idea to see how it felt. 

“I think that’s an excellent plan. Why don’t you talk with him whenever you’re ready and then next time we can really dig into your transition plan.” She nodded, getting up from her desk and walking Zayn to the door.

Zayn stopped and turned to face her, resisting the urge to throw his arms around her in a hug. “Thanks, really. For everything.” He smiled as he put his hand on the doorknob.

“Anytime Zayn, it’s my job,” she joked, pointing to where her name was painted on the door. 

“Yeah suppose so.” Zayn laughed, giving her one last appreciative glance before heading out the door. 

***

“So things went pretty well with my dad,” Liam chirped as he walked through the garden hand in hand with Zayn. It was unseasonably warm, and after being cooped up for so long, both of them were ready to enjoy the bit of fresh air and sunshine. “He really liked you, you know?” Liam smiled, swinging their hands a bit between their bodies.

“Did he?” Zayn replied rather flatly, lost in thought.

“What’s wrong babe?” Liam asked in a worried tone. “You seem out of it today.” He had tried his best to ignore the blank look in Zayn’s eye, attributing it to the early hour and the fact that Zayn hadn’t drank coffee yet. 

“It’s just that I’ve got something on my mind,” Zayn admitted with a small shrug, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact with Liam. “It’s um—I had kind of an intense session with Dr. T this morning and I’ve just been thinking about it.” He cleared his throat nervously.

“Yeah?”

“They’re thinking about starting with my transition plan,” Zayn blurted out, unable to keep a secret like that for any longer. 

“Transition plan? What does that mean?” Liam mumbled, his thick brows furrowing in the confused way that Zayn found both irresistible and soul-crushing. 

“Means that uh, they’re thinking of phasing me out of residential.” Zayn cringed, still trying to address the subject delicately. 

“Phasing?” Liam repeated, making a face as if the word felt foreign in his mouth. 

“Yeah, they do it with all of us eventually. Those of us who make it through treatment.” Zayn hoped Liam would understand what he was getting at and spare him the use of a more blunt approach. 

“I still don’t understand,” Liam replied, looking ever more lost than before, his dark eyes wide.

“Liam, uh, fuck, there really is no easy way to say this but—“ Zayn fumbled, his stomach tying into one giant knot. “I’m leaving. They’re discharging me from residential, I’m going home, well not really home but uh somewhere other than here.” He winced involuntarily at the end as if he’d actually caused Liam physical harm.

“Oh.” Liam gasped, reality clearly sinking in. 

Zayn was unsure how Liam had managed to get this far into their relationship without putting together that Zayn, who had been there for a year, would be leaving long before he did. No matter how he’d managed to ignore it, the fact hurt just the same. He could practically hear the things Liam wanted to say. _‘How could you leave me, I need you, please don’t go.’_ The phrases ran through Zayn’s head on a loop.

“Liam,” Zayn started, telling himself to do it quickly, like a plaster. “Um, I think we should ease up, give each other a little space.” He instantly regretted the words as soon as they passed his lips, therapeutic benefits be damned.

“Space? Like, you don’t want me around anymore?” Liam murmured meekly, the vulnerability and hurt obvious in his tone. “I don’t understand, I thought you loved me.” His lip wobbled despite his obvious effort to keep himself together. 

“Oh, sweetheart. No it’s not like that. I do love you!” Zayn rushed out, wrapping his arms around Liam. 

“Do you though? Or have you finally realized how fucked up I am, that you can do so much better than me? Especially once you’re out of here. You were a fucking _model_ before you came here. You could have anyone you want. I was just a distraction, wasn’t I?” Liam sniffled, trying to push his way out of Zayn’s arms. 

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t say that.” Zayn huffed, keeping a firm hold onto Liam’s body. “I love you so much. It has nothing to do with you not being good enough. You’re amazing! I just want you to be able to see that. I want you to know how good you are without _me_ having to tell you,” he rambled on, rubbing his hands up and down Liam’s back soothingly. 

“Just, please don’t break up with me,” Liam cried, burying his face in Zayn’s shoulder. “I know I’m fucked up, but I can get better. I want to get better for you.” His words slurred together through his tears. 

“Shh, bebs, I want you to get better for _you._ Okay, love? Don’t do it to please me, do it because you deserve to be healthy and happy,” Zayn murmured into Liam’s ear, kissing the shell of it delicately. “Do it because it will help you when you’re out and we’re together in the real world. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. It’s just we need to learn how to be on our own so that we don’t drive each other crazy,” he explained in hushed tone, peppering the top of Liam’s head with feather-light kisses. 

“Okay. I still don’t like the idea of being separated from you b-but I can try, for us,” Liam mumbled, lifting his head to look at Zayn. “Just, like how much space do you want?” he asked anxiously, blinking at him expectantly.

“I just, we can’t spend every minute of the day together. You need to start making some friends here, some people you can go to when I’m not here everyday anymore,” Zayn said, hugging Liam tightly and kissing his forehead. “You need to find something that keeps you going other than me.”

“I like being outside,” Liam tried, looking around at the garden for a moment before nuzzling his face into Zayn’s neck. “I used to be really into sports, you know footie and all that.” He breathed out against his skin. “I dunno, all I can think about right now is you and how I like laying with you and holding you and kissing.” He trailed off, leaving a line of soft kisses against Zayn’s throat.

“That’s what I mean Li, that’s not healthy. We’re too codependent.” Zayn sighed, pulling away from Liam a bit and leading him to a bench near by. “Sit.” He instructed patting the spot next to him. 

Liam sat down next to Zayn without question and instantly leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder. “I know, it probably isn’t healthy what with me still getting better but I can’t help but love you,” he admitted bashfully.

“I know, I can’t help but love you just as much. But that’s not necessarily bad, we can support each other. Like not in an _I can’t live without you_ way but more like I can understand how hard treatment is.” Zayn smiled, reaching down to lace their fingers together. “We’ll get through this Liam, I promise. Just we need to detach a bit, enough so that we don’t both go to pieces when I leave,” he murmured reassuringly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Liam’s hand.

“You’ll visit though right?” Liam asked hopefully, turning his head to kiss Zayn’s jaw.

“Of course, but maybe not right away. Like I think I probably need a good two weeks or so to get used to being out in the world. So I don’t want to promise that I’ll be right back to visit,” Zayn answered realistically.

“Alright.” Liam nodded, tucking himself against Zayn’s side and making himself as small as possible, legs tucked up onto the bench. 

“Oi lovebirds!” a voice interrupted, causing Liam to whimper softly and cling even tighter to Zayn. “Hey Leemo, wanna go play footie with us?” the voice came again, sounding rough and tinny around the edges. 

“No, I think I’ll stay here with Zayn.” Liam replied, looking up and smiling weakly when he saw Louis and Niall standing in front of them. 

“Told ya he wouldn’t play. Too busy being all loved up, it’s proper disgusting,” Niall scoffed with a small chuckle. 

“Go,” Zayn encouraged, nudging Liam away.

“What?” Liam whined, feeling rejected. He schooled his face into the best pout he could manage. 

“Go, remember like we talked about, babe, you need to start doing things because _you_ want to,” Zayn reminded Liam with another gentle nudge off the bench. 

“Oh lord, this may be a while,” Louis teased, backing off a bit and waving Niall to follow. 

“But I wanna stay with you,” Liam defended, still clinging to the hope that Zayn would let him out of it so they could cuddle some more. He lived for Zayn’s cuddles and figured he hadn’t gotten nearly enough in for the morning. 

“Bebs, I know. But getting out will be good for you. You need some time with the lads—without me.” Zayn smiled, poking the tip of Liam’s nose with a finger. 

“Okay, fine.” Liam groaned, grabbing Zayn’s hand away from his face so he could hold onto it.

“Okay? You’ll be all right Li, trust me. I’ll be fine to, I’m gonna go catch up with Cher. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” Zayn laughed, giving Liam’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

“Movie date in the lounge, a nice cuddle, just you and me?” Liam suggested with a sigh of relief, glad to know that he’d still get some time in with Zayn.

“Sounds brilliant, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Zayn nodded wrapping his arms around Liam in a tight hug. 

“Good. I love you. You know that right?” Liam whispered, bumping their noses together with a bright smile.

“Of course bebs, to the moon and back.” Zayn drawled out, sounding completely love struck and content. 

“Something like that,” Liam teased with a giggle, closing the distance between their faces and kissing Zayn deeply, not even pausing when both Niall and Louis voiced their disgust. Liam was happy, and nothing, not even temporary separation from Zayn, would stop him. 

***

“I’m so utterly fucked!” Cher whinged, flopping over onto the floral sofa in the lounge, sending puffs of dust into the late morning sunlight. “He’s so perfect for me. It’s not even fair! What did I do in a past life to deserve this kind of punishment?” she carried on dramatically, her chestnut hair falling over the edge of the sofa.

“So Niall’s actually done it, has he? You’ve actually fallen for him!” Zayn cheered triumphantly, incredibly amused by his friend’s predicament. “Bloody endearing little bastard he is,” he added with a laugh that came all the way from his belly, echoing in the empty lounge. 

“You should have seen him Zayn, he had a A fucking baby! Like with chubby little cheeks and pretty blue eyes just like his.” Cher practically swooned, sitting up cross-legged on the sofa. 

“Wait, he’s got a kid?” Zayn gaped, shaking his head a bit in disbelief that someone like Niall could possibly be trusted with an infant.

“No, you donut, it was his nephew! His name is Theo, and Ni is so good with him. I tell ya there’s a natural father in him somewhere,” she defended, her stomach fluttering at the thought of Niall with a baby—and not just any baby, _her baby._

“Oh fuck. You want him to knock you up, don’t you? You want to move to Ireland and raise a little brood of adorably obnoxious blonde babies,” Zayn gibed, puckering up his lips and making kissing noises at Cher.

“I do not!” she lied, her cheeks turning a deep scarlet. “Besides, they wouldn’t be blonde anyway. Niall is a natural brunet, he dyes his hair,” Cher huffed triumphantly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Aha! So you have thought about it!” Zayn laughed, raising an eyebrow at her judgmentally. 

“Do look at me like that, I—I ugh, I can’t help it. It’s my bloody ovaries, biological clock or summat.” Cher defended, hiding her face behind her hands. “Okay, so maybe I sort of fancy him way more than I intended to,” she admitted after a moment, peeking up at Zayn. 

“Well, seems you’re in quite a spot there, chicken,” Zayn teased, sitting next to her on the sofa. “Seriously babe, he’s a patient here. Isn’t that like against the rules? Ethics or something?” he added, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

“Yeah, I mean I guess so. Is it wrong that I really don’t care?” Cher asked, resting her head on Zayn’s shoulder with a quiet groan. 

“I dunno, I mean I guess if you really like him then maybe it’s worth it? If he makes you really happy and you’re willing to lose your job then I suppose it’s all right.” He hummed, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. “Chez, you’ve sort of become like another sister to me and I just want you to be happy. Okay?” He looked at her with the same serious gaze he gave his sisters. 

“Okay.” She nodded, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “Love yas, Zed!” she chirped, smacking a kiss to his cheek and leaving a berry lipstick stain behind. 

“Stop it will ya, I’ve already got a boyfriend. Go get your leprechaun!” He laughed,   
shoving her off the couch and sending her on her way. 

 

***

Niall was in the gym trying his best not to think about Cher, taking to Liam’s suggestion that the best cure for sexual frustration was exercise. The only problem was that he hadn’t the slightest idea how exactly one goes about exercising. 

“Shite,” he cursed as the basketball he was trying to shoot came off the backboard and hit him in the face. “Fucking hell, exercise? Really, Liam, fook. I should’ve stuck to lifting pints,” he muttered, rubbing the newly forming bruise on his forehead.

“Really? Because that sounds like a horrible idea for a man that’s in a psych hospital for burning down a pub in a drunken haze!” Cher called out from where she was leaning against the door, looking way better than anyone should in a pair of blue medical scrubs. 

“Idiot, now you’ve done it,” Niall muttered to himself, looking down at his naked torso self-consciously and realizing exactly how pale and scrawny he looked. “I-I didn’t expect anyone to come in. Gym’s usually empty this time of day.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool as he walked over to her. 

“Really? I could hear you clear down the ward. Your voice really carries you know? You’re quite loud when you want to be.” Cher laughed for a moment, before realizing what she’d said and blushing brightly. “Um—I mean you just have one of those voices you know, nothing sexual or what not. Just you’re loud,” she fumbled, trying with little success to redeem herself. 

“Sexual? Are you making advances at me, Nurse Lloyd?” Niall teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut it will you? You just think you can wiggle those cute little eyebrows and get away with anything?” she accused with a small huff, blowing a bit of fringe back from her face.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” Niall blurted out without thinking. “Admit it, you like me,” he continued, deciding it would probably be best to roll with it. 

“I—I um, I don’t. You’re annoying, that’s what you are.” She groaned, backing up against the wall.

“Oi, shut it will ya.” Niall murmured, pinning her against the wall and kissing her hard on the mouth, her lips opening, pliant beneath his.

“Ni,” Cher panted between hurried kisses, her hands resting on his hips. “Ni, we have to stop,” she whispered, moving her hands to his chest and pushing him away gently. 

“What’s wrong babe? I thought we um, we had something. I mean don’t you feel it too?” he panted, scrunching his face up in confusion.

“I do! That’s the problem. I think you’re adorable and sweet, and fuck, you’re absolutely criminal with babies. I love your pretty blue eyes and your stupid fake blonde hair. I just, I really really like you. But I’ve got my job to worry about and somehow I don’t care,” she rambled on, tugging on the hem of her scrub top nervously. 

“Woah, hey, babe it’s okay. I’m not asking you to give up your job, whoa. I’d never ask that of you,” Niall said quickly, rubbing a hand up and down her arm soothingly. 

“I know, but if you did, I would. I think. That’s the thing. I’m in so deep. I mean, I think I want to make things work between us.” She blushed, stumbling forward toward him involuntarily.

“Yeah?” Niall perked up, his eyebrows rising almost into his hairline. 

“Fuck, we shouldn’t be talking about this right here. Someone could hear us,” Cher whispered, looking around with wide eyes.

“Easy, come on, there’s a supply cupboard over there. We won’t be overheard there,” Niall suggested, gesturing over his shoulder. “I know it sounds sketchy but like, it’s actually pretty big and like I said, no one comes into the gym at this time.” He shrugged, trying to convey the image of casual interest. 

 

“Okay, sure fine. Let’s go.” Cher nodded, heading into the closet before him in a failed attempt to make it look a bit less conspicuous. 

“So um, how are we gonna make this work?” Niall asked as he closed the door behind him, setting down the basketball he had been using.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the past couple of days. Honestly. Ever since I watched you with your nephew.” She sighed, chewing on her lip nervously.

“Oh? So it was Little Craic that did it in for you, eh?” Niall preened with a smug grin. 

“Little what?” Cher laughed, shaking her head at him. 

“Craic, it’s an Irish thing—Harry came up with—you know what, doesn’t matter.” He blushed with a nervous chuckle. “But, you’re really serious about this? Like you’d actually date me? Outside of here?” Niall asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.

“Stop it, will you? Stop acting like you don’t realize how cute and endearing you are,” she muttered with a childish stomp of her foot.

“You think I’m endearing?” He perked up, reaching out and pulling Cher forward by her petite hips.

“Yes, I do. Don’t look so smug about it!” she squeaked, allowing Niall to pull her close until they were nearly nose to nose. “I—I was thinking, maybe we could be casual. Like nothing official until either you get out of here or I find a new job. You know, like, take it easy?” she breathed, eyes trailing over his face and landing on his lips.

“Yeah, casual is fine. I can do casual,” Niall drawled out, his mind unable to focus on anything but Cher’s lips and the heat between their bodies. “Gonna kiss you,” he warned starting to lean forward.

“Not gonna stop you.” Cher chuckled, lunging forward and connecting their lips in a deep kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth easily. 

Niall hummed happily into the kiss, moaning softly as he felt her hands move to the waistband of his basketball shorts. “Chez, what are you doing?” he mumbled against her lips. 

“Would it be casual of me if I sucked you off right here?” she mumbled, arching a well-groomed eyebrow at him.

“Yea,” he tried to respond, voice cracking at the mere thought of her pretty lips wrapped around his cock. “Fuck, yes. I’d say it’s casual, like a handshake,” he tried to say coolly, his mind moving too fast for him to keep up.

“Handshake?” Cher laughed as she sank to her knees, pulling his shorts with her. “Just a casual blow job,” she repeated as she wrapped her small hand around his length and stroked it expertly, rubbing her thumb over the tip.

“Mhmm, so casual,” Niall keened, pushing his hips up into her hand, gasping when she instead greeted him with her lips wrapped around his length. “Fuck, you’re really good at this.” He groaned, bracing his hands on her shoulders.

Cher pulled her lips off in response, swirling her tongue around his shaft and staring up at him wolfishly. “Never did get to pay you back that one day. Your fingers are magic.” She smirked, hand wrapped around his based as she took him back in her mouth and bobbed her head up and down.

“This—this is good,” Niall sputtered, stumbling backward into a rack of basketballs and sending them cascading onto the floor. “Balls!” he exclaimed, trying his best to stay upright. 

Cher made a muffled sound that might have been a chuckle if her mouth wasn’t full. She was determined to keep going though and kept up a steady pace, her hand pumping what she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

“Cher, oh fuck. You’re amazing, so good,” he praised, stroking her hair gently once he was sure he wouldn’t fall over. “M’close,” he warned, looking down at her with lusty eyes.

She only responded by picking up her pace, determined to make him feel as good as he had made her feel not so long ago. Cher closed her eyes and did her best to take him down further, choking slightly on his length.

“Cher!” Niall yelped, covering his mouth with his arm to stifle a loud cry of pleasure as he came down her throat. His vision went spotty for a moment and all he could feel was her warm mouth and the gentle pressure of her fingers on his hips.

Cher swallowed everything he gave her easily, wiping her mouth off as she pulled away. “Easy love, don’t fall over.” She chuckled, pulling his shorts back up and making sure he was tucked in securely. 

“That was amazing, you, you definitely more than paid me back. Jaysus, and that was just for me fingering you,” he panted, still struggling to catch his breath. “Come here you,” he added softly, helping Cher up and pressing a sweet kiss to her berry lips. 

“Hey, none of that mushy stuff now. Not very casual is it?” she teased, pulling away from him and wiggling her hips as she walked to the door, leaving Niall to pick his balls up off the floor both literally and metaphorically.

It wasn’t until minutes later that Niall finally snapped from his trance, shaken by the sound of Liam’s voice outside the closet. 

“Hey, so you took my advice after all! Did it help? I told you the gym always helps!” Liam cheered, blissfully unaware of the events that had just transpired in the closet.

“Yeah, it worked all right,” Niall crowed, waltzing out of the closet and tossing his t-shirt over his shoulder as he strutted out of the gym. 

Yeah, casual was all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there you have it lovelies! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! ^_^


	15. I Feel the Chemicals Burn In my Bloodstream (So Tell Me When it Kicks In)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis’ first few days at Shady Pines had been spent in a deep misery, a soggy backwash of tears and pretty little pills distributed in plastic cups. Bruised under his eyes and in his very soul, Louis had been catatonic to the extent that he barely knew where he was. He’d had a mental image of himself, curled up, bristles out, protected from the world—but none of it had been _true,_ the bad had been _inside_ of him, emanating from deep down within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the new Ed Sheeran song Bloodstream (xxx ED BABY!!!!) because I am a hopeless, quivering disaster.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR WAITING. I finished my third year of graduate school, finished up my therapy practicum at a nursing home, and submitted my dissertation proposal while you were waiting. I'm a busy bunny, but I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH.
> 
> I have a vague tutorial link here: http://musiclily.tumblr.com/post/90903209241/glitter-calming-coping-jars-bottles-i
> 
> plus more notes down below
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT AND CHAT AND SQUEAL WITH ME.  
> xx  
> musiclily

Louis traipsed to his room slowly, slack-jawed and stunned. _Discharge_ rang through his head, the word sitting heavy and bright on the back of his tongue, like he might choke on it. He forced his door open and slumped against the doorframe. Many feelings washed over him, relief and dysphoria and disbelief. He sat down hard on the floor and closed his eyes.

***

Louis’ first few days at Shady Pines had been spent in a deep misery, a soggy backwash of tears and pretty little pills distributed in plastic cups. Bruised under his eyes and in his very soul, Louis had been catatonic to the extent that he barely knew where he was. He’d had a mental image of himself, curled up, bristles out, protected from the world—but none of it had been _true,_ the bad had been _inside_ of him, emanating from deep down within.

He’d had to relearn how to do the most basic things, at least theoretically: to care for himself, to bathe, to eat and give a damn. He’d had to remember how to be his own hero. He’d had to wash away the tacky taste of self-destruction and absolute loathing. He’d had to find an anchor in something, opening up his moorless chest, even as he’d worried he would float away. He’d had to learn to _survive himself_ even as he’d felt totally eaten up from the inside. He’d succumbed to his own sense of self-horror and had learned how to transform it. Finally.

***

Louis picked himself up and shut his door quietly, walking through the corridor until he could push his way into the gym. He picked up a partly-deflated football and bounced it absently, making headers and kicking it off it wall. Darting around, he worked up a sweat, his pulse bumping steadily. Gone was forty-five minutes, gone was an hour when the door banged open. In a siege of his own emotions, Louis let the ball fall and roll away.

“I’m getting discharged,” he announced to the room at large.

“I know,” Niall said. “You’re the talk of the town.”

Louis snorted. “I don’t know what to do, Ni.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Will I?”

Niall raised his eyebrows before breaking into a wide, white grin. “What do you think?”

Louis sighed at this. “Picking up on the therapist tricks, are we?”

“No tricks to it, just have to put in the work.”

“Someone _has_ been paying attention,” Louis mused, brows raised.

“Hey, love, you’re not the only one who wants to get out of here, yeah?”

“I know.”

“Have a drink for me when you get out, will ya?”

“I’m not sure I can mix that with my meds,” Louis answered guardedly, moving to pick up the discarded football.

“Ah, fair. Buy a drink for a fit bird, then, and give her my number.”

“Yeah, all right, you slag.” Louis paused. “You’re kind of my fairly godmother, no?”

Niall laughed, filling up the room with the bright sound of his voice.

“Fine,” Louis conceded. “Minus the fairy bit?”

Niall seemed momentarily affronted. “We’ve all thought about it, Lou. You’re not so special in the grand scheme of boy-kissing.”

_“What,”_ Louis squawked.

Niall cackled. “So it is possible to shock the great Tommo, even on subjects he claims to be so seasoned!”

“It’s like a lockdown gay pride parade in here, Christ,” Louis muttered, chucking the ball at him.

“Hey, a kiss is a kiss,” he replied, ducking easily.

“Big words, little man,” Louis taunted. “I don’t believe you anyhow.”

“Hey! I can be heteroflexible. Look, I’m all wiggly.” Niall shook out his limbs like they were made of jam, eliciting a laugh from Louis.

“You look like a tit, and I still don’t believe you.”

Niall heaved a great sigh and tackled Louis to the ground half-gently, before planting a wet, spitty kiss directly on his lips. The door banged open and shut just as Niall reared back and began to cackle again, still straddling Louis awkwardly. “God, Lou, your _face_ right now is a thing of beauty,” he stuttered out between laughs.

“Your giant bloody hip is threatening to castrate me, now gerrof!” Louis responded, trying to wriggle out from underneath Niall.

“Oh.” Louis tipped his head backwards, simultaneously stunned by everything and annoyed at Niall. “Don’t mind me,” Harry said dully, because _of course it would be Harry,_ pivoting on his heel to leave the room.

“Off me, you slag,” Louis muttered, shoving Niall away, moving to chase Harry down. He shoved his way through the double-doors and called, “Wait, hey! Haz, it didn’t mean anything.”

Harry stopped dead. “No, I know.”

“Okay,” Louis replied slowly.

When Harry spoke, his voice was soft, so much so that Louis had to walk forward and lean in to hear him. “This is what you're normally like yeah? Bright like the sun without ever going full supernova. Beautiful. You're beautiful. Some days I get so big I think I might explode. You're shiny, capable. It's all I can do not to look at you, every second of the day.”

“Then why'd you run?” Louis asked, slow and confused and trying to grasp for some kind of hint or clue as to what Harry was on about. His mind was a frustrating, troublesome blank.

“Because otherwise I'd eat you up. How much I want you—it’ll eat you up. If I'm not careful.”

“Okay.”

“And I'm no good at being careful. I'm too big, it's all too big. I feel too much. And I know that I scare you. And it makes sense.”

“I don't—”

“You're getting discharged,” Harry interrupted.

“Yes. I know,” Louis replied in cool, even tones—the kind of voice one used with small children, rabid animals, and crazy people. He should know this voice, as it had been used on him with great and dedicated frequency. He loathed himself sometimes.

“And I'm not.”

“You will eventually.”

“It hurts, Lou.”

“Look it's not, I'm not going away. Not shipping off to ‘Nam. I'm not even leaving yet. And I've gotta come back, you know, for therapy and for groups.”

Harry grabbed for the collar of Louis’ shirt. “The enormity of what I feel for you is terrifying.”

“Hey, H?” He paused until Harry looked him straight in the eyes, glass-green and wide. Louis nodded once, sternly. “I love you too.”

Harry’s eyes welled up at that, wet with relief, but also fear. “You’re just so fucking beautiful,” he croaked, tipping forward to lean his forehead onto Louis’ shoulder.

“You’re over-thinking it, babe, letting this—” Louis waved one hand vaguely, indicating _something,_ surely. “You’re letting this, like, cotton batting get in the way of everything, you’re attuning to stuff that’s just—stuff. It’s not real. It doesn’t have to be real.”

Harry stiffened, pulling away from Louis. “My feelings are—”

“Your feelings are real,” Louis interrupted. “Yes. But you don’t have to turn them into reality, out here in the universe. You don’t have to get ahead of everything and turn it into a catastrophe, yeah?”

Harry huffed once, but offered him a wan smile.

“There’s my beautiful boy. Give us a kiss, yeah? I need to get rid of the awfulness that is Niall’s slobber.”

Harry snorted. “You make it sound so attractive when you put it like that.”

“How about this, then. When you’re feeding on insecurity and nothing else, when you’re sucking down the idea that you’re the ruination of the world, how about you do _absolutely anything else.”_

Harry sucked in his bottom lip, his eyes fluttering shut.

“How about you,” Louis continued, undeterred by the beautiful disaster in front of him, “take all those coping skills and put them to good use?”

“You’re ridiculous, you are.”

“Three coping skills or no kisses,” Louis dared, pouting out his lips like this was the saddest prospect in the entire damn world.

Harry heaved a sigh. “Going for a run, though that doesn’t always work.”

“Whatever. Do you want to count it as a coping skill or not?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“So I do this thing—where, it’s hard to explain, but I take a piece of paper and fold it in half and rip it in two, and I keep doing that until I have—confetti.” He paused. “It helps me focus my energy.”

Louis stayed silent but nodded.

“And third is. Um. Music?”

“Specifically?”

“Frank Sinatra and James Taylor. And smooth jazz.”

Louis snorted but planted a soft kiss on Harry’s jaw. “You’re the best kind of ridiculous. It has been proclaimed.” He pumped one fist into the air.

“I want a badge or a sash or something, please. And a proper kiss.” Harry folded his arms across his chest and pouted slightly. “Hang on,” he added belatedly, face slackening. “Did you say that you love me? _What the hell, Lou!”_

“What? I thought you’d be pleased!” Louis took two panicked steps backwards, eyes going wide.

“Yeah, but—this is like monumental stuff, isn’t it? Something that we need to talk about, rather than you kind of blurting it out when I’m having a panic attack?”

“How very dare you, I do not blurt!”

_“I somehow talked you into loving me and I would like to know how I did it please.”_

“Creepy single-mindedness, your intense froglike gaze, and the fact that I’ve seen your flaccid cock an obscene amount of times.”

“This is serious!”

“Yes, it is, but it’s also, like, not. It doesn’t have to be hard, I mean. We can coexist peacefully if we don’t let bullshit get in the way.”

“That is so much easier said than done.” Harry’s brows furrowed.

“I know, but it sounds good in theory, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, that is technically correct,” Harry agreed, rolling his eyes.

“Technically correct is the absolute best kind of correct, and I will not hear otherwise.”

“Right, but I want to talk about this. That’s important to me.”

“Can we not do it in this random-arse corridor, how bout?”

Harry broke into a bright grin. “Really?” he breathed. “In that case, I wanna show you something.”

***

It caught Harry dead-still, was the thing, and that _never_ happened to him. He wasn’t still even at the best of times, didn’t know how to make his limbs work in tandem with one another or what his resting heart-rate should actually be. He felt like he was constantly gasping for air, that the world was moving so slowly in comparison to him.

Louis helped him stand still, and he wasn’t sure if that was weakness. He wasn’t sure if that was codependent or unhealthy or anything at all. All he knew was that he wanted to be cuddled in to Louis’ sturdy chest, to listen to his thudding heartbeat, for the rest of time. And that absolutely, utterly _terrified_ him.

Harry was used to jumping into the unknown, and he was used to jumping off of tall buildings under the impression that he most certainly would not do himself any harm. Grandiosity had taken him very, very far, especially in conjunction with his bright smile and the fucking dimples. He had some self-awareness, and he understood that his life had been filled with a sense of utter invincibility. He was impervious to so many things when he was up, and they were thrown into sharp relief when he was lucid. He understood why he had scared his mother, he understood that he was sometimes a literal danger to himself and those around him, although never on purpose.

When he was lucid, he was scared of himself. Sometimes hypomania was a fucking relief, a distraction from the fear that he could do nothing, that his life might actually go _nowhere._ He yearned for bright and shiny, sure, but he really wanted to feel—normal. A tiny, shameful part of him liked to wonder what his life would have been like in a neurotypical sense, where psych wards were an abstract concept he only read about or saw in a film. He wished he didn’t know the side effects of lithium and four different atypical antipsychotics, wished he didn’t need to get blood drawn every week to make sure he wasn’t in toxic levels.

He thought perhaps he would have been able to finish school much more easily, that he might have been able to have a love life that wasn’t spiked through with abject fear. He didn’t want to break someone’s heart by accidentally destroying himself, didn’t want to push them away based on something he felt absolutely useless to control.

It was chemicals and biology and a lot of other shit he was trying desperately to understand, but it wasn’t always under his control. And the idea that someone else was going to be deeply involved in that was, while comforting, also frightening to contemplate.

Somehow, in some manner or other, he had roped Louis in to something, and he felt absolutely sure that it was going to explode.

***

Harry led Louis back to the ward and found Cher, giving her a cheeky smile and innocent doe-eyes as he requested a favour. She heaved a sigh but acquiesced, walking ahead of them to the art room to unlock it.

“So I technically need to supervise you, since there’s sharps in here and all that, but I get the sense that—well, I’ll be far enough away that I can’t overhear your conversations, yeah?” She sat at the far end of the room and began to braid her long, brunette hair.

“Thanks, Chezza!” Harry called before he turned to a side cabinet and rummaged around inside it momentarily. “So,” he added in a quieter voice, “I have to keep this in here because it’s made of glass and I have a nasty habit of breaking things and doing bodily harm to myself.” 

He extracted a clear bottle that looked like it once held wine, sloped and graduated with a thin neck. It was full of bright blue liquid, almost robins-egg in colour. It was stoppered with a twist top, and the bottom was littered with silvery specks. “You know, the glitter coping bottle? Like, to help you calm down or whatever.” It was something Harry hadn’t heard of until he entered the hospital—the premise being that shaking a bottle full of water and glitter, then waiting for it to settle, was soothing. He found the concept remarkably simple yet effective. 

Holding it up to the light so Louis could see it, he gave it a shake. Bright silver glitter swam its way around the bottle, slick and pretty suspended in the blue liquid. “So, like, I have a few, but this one’s my favourite.” He kept his eyes trained on the bottle as he handed it to Louis.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Louis marvelled, grasping it carefully. “I never made one, but Liam has like, seven of them. Actually that might be pathological. He really likes things like that, right? Might need to talk to him about that.”

“Lou, I’m trying to have a moment here. Focus, please.” Harry ran a hand along the nape of his neck, feeling slightly foolish.

“It’s mesmerizing, Haz.”

“It’s you,” he added simply.

“I beg your pardon?”

“So pretty, and clear and blue. Shiny and bright, like, proper sparkly. But—breakable, but durable too. But people need to be gentle with you. Because you’re, like. You’re just so…” Harry trailed off, eyes betraying him as they filled with tears. “I’m not very good at gentle, Louis.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Louis hugged the bottle to his chest with one hand and cupped Harry’s face with the other. “You’re killing me here, love.”

“What if I break you?”

“I’ve already been broken, repeatedly. And now I know how to put myself back together, don’t I?” He thumbed along Harry’s cheekbone, and some part of him radiated gentle, enduring affection. A few tears spilled out onto Harry’s cheeks but he grinned, hard and fast, as he grasped onto Louis’ wrist. “That’s the best thing about people, we’re not made of glass, are we? We can keep on, for as long as we’re alive.”

“Keep going until things settle,” Harry agreed, sniffling lightly. “Like the glitter.”

“Precisely.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Sorry that this is like, weird and sentimental and kind of heavy-handed. But.” Harry shrugged.

“But you’re kind of like that, no? Just out there, with your feelings, no shame. Just giving yourself to the universe.” Louis hugged the bottle closer to his chest. “It’s admirable. Really.”

“Dead romantic, we are,” Harry managed, swiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Proper loved up, even,” Louis agreed, wry smile teasing at his lips.

_“Anyway,_ after the revelatory and very forward explanation of my fears and insecurities, I feel like we should—art. Would you like to art with me, Lou?”

Louis frowned. “Mine’s not going to be as pretty as yours.”

“You just, like, insulted yourself while also complimenting yourself and complimenting me.”

“I’m a complicated creature, what can I say.”

Harry heaved a happy sigh and returned to the cupboard, retrieving empty plastic water bottles and four kinds of glitter, all of which he managed to hold in his obscenely large hands. Louis made a half-aborted whining sound, deep in his throat and just flat-out stared at Harry, who preened under the attention. He set everything down and moved to grab more bottles of glitter, something in a small box, and a container of glue.

“So, you fill it up with water and then a shit-tonne of glue, and shake it, then add some glitter and food colouring and shake it again. It’s simple, actually.”

“Deceptively so.” Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry.

Given that this was Harry’s belaboured attempt at wooing someone he had clearly already wooed, he took the lead, ushering Louis toward the sink to fill a plastic bottle before returning to the table to fill it with what he had appropriately deemed a _shit-tonne of glue._ They both squeezed an unnecessary amount of food-colouring into the bottle, Harry swirling it gently afterwards.

“So, like. I think we should fuck,” Harry said languidly as he capped the plastic bottle and handed it to Louis.

“What?” Louis squawked, nearly dropping absolutely everything he was holding.

“Do—do you not want to?”

“No I, no I do. I do.”

“Okay?”

“Just outta nowhere, innit.”

“I’ve been trying to bone you for seventeen thousand years, Lou.”

“I sense exaggeration.”

“Shush, please, and love the lust. Just, like. Please.”

“How about we, like, ease into that.”

Harry snorted.

“You know what I mean!”

“Babe, even I know what you mean,” Cher called from the other end of the room. She had spent the time plaiting her hair into a great series of braids all over her head, and she looked a bit bored. “Your voices sorta carry when you get horny.”

“Sorry!” Louis called, smirking at Harry.

“You’re not sorry.”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

 

And perhaps that was what found them stumbling into Harry’s room, empty-handed mostly because Cher did her job behind them rather than them paying attention to one goddamn thing, more than them paying attention to anything.

They stumbled into the doorframe and against the door itself simultaneously, eliciting wolf-style whistles from Nick. “Shut up, Grimshaw,” Louis growled out, removing his lips from Harry’s jaw for only a moment. Then he kicked the door shut and slammed Harry against it, their bodies flush into one another, toe to tip.

“Finally,” Harry breathed, tipping his head back so Louis could fiercely plant his teeth on the exposed collarbone. Harry groaned, cupping Louis’ arse with both hands, grinding their bodies together in synch. “So fucking hot. You’re driving me nuts.”

Harry cringed internally at the phrasing, but somehow, Louis let it go. Louis sucked on his skin greedily, nipping in with his teeth before kneading with his lips. Harry keened. He keened, and then he shoved his palms against Louis’ shoulders, forcing their bodies apart.

“What?” Louis sighed, opening his glassy eyes.

Harry guided him sideways, moving his hands to Louis’ hips before setting him on the edge of the bed. Then Harry sunk to his knees, casting his eyes up to meet Louis’ gaze. “So pretty,” he murmured, pressing one cheek against Louis’ leg.

“Fuck.” Louis exhaled, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He planted one hand on the back of Harry’s neck, gently pulling at the hair along the nape of his neck. Harry whined quietly, enjoying the tug at the roots.

“Can I?” he asked quietly, nosing into Louis’ groin, eyes bright and wide.

“Please,” Louis agreed, ducking his chin down to look at Harry with a hooded glance. “Anything.”

Harry hooked one finger into Louis’ waistbands and tugged down gently, forcing Louis to cant his hips up off the bed so his trousers and pants could be moved past his arse. “Wanna see your skin, wanna see all of you. So pretty, aren’t you?” he murmured, planting a long trail of kisses along Louis’ soft thigh.

“I—I try my best,” he stuttered, eyes falling shut precisely as Harry wrapped one large, calloused hand along the base of Louis’ dick without preamble. “Don’t tease.”

“Me, tease? Tommo the tease asks nicely,” Harry said before flicking his tongue out to lick against Louis’ tip. With his other hand he gently rolled back the foreskin before darting out his tongue again, flattening it against Louis’ slit.

“I’m always n-nice.”

Harry pulled back momentarily. “I get that you’re a talker, love, but if you want my undivided attention down here, don’t expect me to respond.” Then he darted back in to circle his tongue and lips around the head of Louis’ cock.

“Deal,” Louis breathed, rocking forward slightly into Harry’s touch. Harry mewled, spit slicking up his lips and part of his fist. “God, you’re just so—I can’t handle you, can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re real. You’re fucking magical, so pretty for me, babe.” He ran a thumb along Harry’s jaw, rasping against the light stubble.

In response Harry bore down harder, taking Louis in over his tongue and past his gag reflex, making Louis groan salaciously. Heat rose in Harry’s cheeks as his lips slackened, and his hands grappled for purchase against Louis’ thighs.

“Oh my _god_ babe, you’re just, you’re just so. So good, you’re everything.”

Harry keened, moving one hand to cup Louis’ balls gently, reverently, as he tried to remember to breathe through his nose. He heard himself gag and choke, his throat constricting and loosening, and he reveled in it. His own ignored cock hardened even more, lifted against the fabric tightening around his groin, and he moaned into Louis’ skin.

He tightened his lips and took Louis down further, closing his eyes as tears gathered despite himself. Only then did he begin bobbing his head, working his throat and mouth open as he gently kneaded Louis’ balls.

“Just like this,” Louis was muttering as Harry tuned back in, dazed slightly, “just so good for me. So lovely, you’re such a love. What have I ever done to deserve how good you are?”

Harry moaned again, reminding himself to breathe and pump and suck. His vision blacked out when Louis raked one hand through his hair _hard_ like he had never thought to mention he adored.

Louis split him open from lips to chest, the feeling radiating through his core and straight to his dick. Removing his hand from the base of Louis’ cock, he began to palm himself swiftly, painfully, with a speed he hadn’t achieved since he was an adolescent.

“I just can’t believe you sometimes, babe, can’t believe you exist, think I’ve made you up. You’re the most important, H, you’re everything.”

Harry kneaded harder, rutting himself cruelly until he came with a muffled shout, a shout that ghosted against Louis’ dick. Again his vision blanked, and he had to remind himself to move and breathe and exist.

He bore down further against Louis, if such a thing were possible, keeping his eyes shut as he listened to Louis moan.

“Babe, babe, I’m gonna, I’m close, babe,” Louis babbled, yanking on Harry’s hair with one closed fist. “Do you want—”

Harry pulled off with a wet sound and opened his eyes. “Come on my face, please,” he begged, immediately sucking on his bottom lip. His chest heaved and his vision sparked as he tipped his head back. “Please.”

Louis gasped, nodding, as he began fisting himself abruptly to comply. “So, so p-pretty for me,” he stuttered as he came, spurting madly over Harry’s upturned cheek and lips. “Can’t believe you. You’re unreal, you.”

Harry hummed with a smile before opening his mouth to lick come off the seam of his lips. Louis patted his hair absently, seeming spacey, as Harry sucked in everything he could.

“You, you’re a marvel, H. You’re just, you’re everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIPS, otherwise known as “Sarah made mistakes so you don’t have to.”
> 
> -Generally speaking, do follow the guidelines I put up there. Make sure to get CLEAR glue if you use the glue route, otherwise you get this weird milky thing that looks kind of like snot. (Or, as my co-author and flatmate said, come. Thanks, love).
> 
> -You CAN use glitter glue rather than glitter then glue, BUT, a caveat: You must use VERY HOT water with glitter glue, otherwise it clumps and the glitter does not separate right. For the orange mason jar here, I used boiling water. BE CAREFUL WITH BOILING WATER and make sure to use something with a big mouth when pouring. I would use multiple tubes of glitter glue if you go this route, since it doesn’t expand quite the same way loose glitter does.
> 
> -Um don’t pour boiling water into a plastic bottle right when it’s hot or it’ll like warp and melt. I just know that from experience, folks, it’s not fun.
> 
> -I…have no food coloring! So I mixed many different colors of glitter together.
> 
> -Different sizes of glitter settle at different speeds, which can be nice.
> 
> -If you use a plastic bottle, be sure to super-glue the lid on once you’re done so it won’t leak. Mason jars and the like have a self-sealing cap since they’re often used for canning.
> 
> -Apparently adding a bit of corn syrup can also help suspend the glitter in the water (rather than glue), but I didn’t do that. Let me know if that works?
> 
> -Make sure to fill it all the way to the top or your get frothy bubbles! (Unless you like frothy bubbles which is legit too)
> 
> The method that worked best for me: Loose glitter and clear glue that I got from a craft store (I used about 1/5 of the glue bottle for these medium mason jars) and fill the rest with water. The glue helps suspend it so the glitter doesn’t settle quite as quickly. Mixing different colors of loose glitter made for a nice effect, as well. Also got a couple of plastic gem things to float around in it, which sounds like rattling ice when I shake it.
> 
> It’s soothing as fuck to watch this thing, guys.
> 
>  
> 
> my tumblr: musiclily
> 
> my co-author's tumblrs: chicagocuppycake and littlemisscraic

**Author's Note:**

> As always, we promise to treat these topics with genuine respect and care. I (musiclily88) and my co-author (sweet_disposition) both have work experience in residential treatment care facilities, and I previously worked on an inpatient unit. Realism is what we're shooting for, of course, but entertainment is also paramount (duh).
> 
> We love you.
> 
> Come bitch at us  
> my tumblr: musiclily  
> my co-author's tumblr: chicagocuppycake


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